#the azure sky chapter 11

[of-elves-and-mad-hatters]

WIP

A little segment from Ch. 11 of The Azure Sky that I'm working on.

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Emily reaches a hand absentmindedly to her amulet. It feels cold again, prickly with static. Unpleasant. 

An instense spark jolts her finger. She recoils. 

A rush of half-faded images, a memory, impress upon her mind. Her eight-year-old self trembling under a quilt on her grandmother’s couch, crying because there was a wailing thunderstorm that night and she hated the way the world looked when it was lit up by lightning. 

They illuminated the dark faces in the trees, the ones too melded with the night to see any other time. And she begged her grandmother to make them go away. 

Her grandmother smiled pityingly, and whispered that she was too old to be hunting spirits anymore, but not to worry, that the dark things were farther away than they appeared, and that there were barriers that kept them locked away. Because that’s how the light deals with darkness, by casting it far away. 

Of course there were the few who dealt with things by swallowing the shadows, but her grandmother told her never to pay them much mind. That you should just tell them white lies because they tended to be grumpy and might not otherwise help anyone with the darkness. 

Little Emily objected. Her parents said that lying was always wrong. 

Her grandmother only smiled gently, tucked a strand of hair behind the child’s ear. Whispered, “Sometimes the only way to love is to lie”. 

[great20sworld]

LIVING THE DREAM

A Viktor x Reader fanfiction

Author's note: Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6 chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 and chapter 10 are available in my Tumblr page along with summary.

⚠️ Content warning ⚠️: Depictions of pain, gore and syringes.

⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️: Emphasis on Science Fiction and not Science Fact. All intended for literary purposes.

Chapter 11: Of Cupcakes and Crystals

__________________________________

“And…Fire!” Jayce shouts the command.

You pulled the lever, making the charged metallic strips pulled back by springs, spring forward connecting with the huge circular ring in the centre, the arcs of azure dancing along it's circumference, as the charges whizz past the right and left coils towards the collision point.

“Approaching collision point…” Sky calls out, her eyes shining behind the heavily tinted goggles with anticipation. “Viktor…!”

“Got it!” Viktor says back to her, hands deftly turning knobs and adjusting levers to stretch apart the springs coiled to calibrate the energy pulses.

“Ow! Too fast, too fast!” You say, as the heat waves emanating from the lever you were supposed to control makes it scaldingly hot. You pull away your hands, shaking it and blowing in it, lightly burned.

“Oh sorry! Forgot the rheostat coils!” Jayce sends a sheepish grin your way, before pushing the block on the rheostat to maximum extent, giving it maximum length. The charges start to dissipate, the sparks glowing along the rim with more stability than the previous attempt, making the ring glow blue, as you regret your decision in peeking out of your goggles.

“Now! Now!” Sky says frantically to Viktor who cranks up the brass dials to maximum intensity, and then all eyes turn to the ring with anticipation.

The pen which stood at the point of collision of the two charges rattled as the metal which it was situated upon thrummed with the sheer energy coursing towards it- it's metallic grip shining, reflecting its approaching doom- unaware of how much anticipation bubbled within the four sets of gazes directed towards it. The collision occurs, a soft fizzle spluttering from the point where charge meets ink and the faint smell of burnt metal fills the air, the space in which the pen stood completely empty except for the burn marks on the metal, splatters of shards of small metallic parts with ink stains in the surroundings. The dials of the mechanical gauges pulled back to zero almost instantly, the hum of machinery quietening down to a murmur as you pull back the lever, disappointment etched in your face.

“See, it doesn't work that way…” Jayce says, removing his goggles and looking your direction, as he makes his way towards you and Viktor and Sky descends from their stations.

“It… I don't know, that's generally how subatomic particles function, it's supposed to run through the pen…” you scratch the back of your head, trying somehow to refresh your memory of the particle accelerator enhancements back in your earth.

“Subatomic?” Jayce says incredulously. “Sorry, but may I remind you that electron is as far as it goes.” He smirks.

“No! It isn't! There is stuff that makes up the electrons!” You argue, waving your hand.

How would a man from this world ever understand?

“We've tried this twice- and now you owe Viktor a new pen.” Jayce says, pointing at the splintered remains of what used to be a normal pen.

“Atleast we learnt how to dissipate the charges without making any explosions!” Viktor says, approaching Jayce and patting him on the shoulder. “And while I do need a new pen, I think we could give Y/N one more chance- I think there's something to it.” He shakes his head towards the ring.

“Did we isolate the circuitry correctly? Made enough room?” He turns to Sky, who was cleaning out the dials which has splattered remains of ink on it.

“I checked it, and yes, we did. This time.” Sky offers helpfully, handing him a the circuit diagrams. You move towards Viktor, peering over his shoulder to look at the diagrams as he held it out for you.

“M-maybe the collision energy was off by some nanovolts, maybe the pressure was off? There's so many things…!” You tap at the corresponding depictions on paper as you speak.

“We checked those last time- are you sure you didn't get these from a science fiction text rather than a science text?” Jayce questions again, raising his brow at you, but there's no malice behind it, just the lilt of a teasing remark. You huff in response, shoulders tense.

“Anything is possible, right?” The soft voice of reason chimes from between you, smiling lightly at his partner. “If hextech can have bizarre proerperties, why is the prospect of it teleporting things so far fetched?”

“I don't know Vik…” Jayce sighs softly.

“Let's just see.” Viktor settles, defending you.

Almost three weeks had passed since you started working with your new partners, as Viktor's new assistant, progress was rapid, even the most miniscule of discoveries such as the crystal’s containment and charge extraction being counted as new feats in the eyes of the academy and in the eyes of the professor who watches over his students like an inventor over a ticking time bomb- with contained fear yet dangerous anticipation. Over the days, you found little sources of delight in working alongside your “fictional” idols, Sky being one whom you could relate to the most.

She was dedicated and excellent in keeping track of instruments in the lab, and taking readings- making her fantastic in the process of checking up on everything else other than the core process so that nothing explodes. You almost revered her sense of patience when Viktor and Jayce sometimes went overboard with dancing around the lines of lab safety. However, she was more than fine with cleaning up the mess, remaking gently that her own pet projects in bio-engineering fields would be greatly benefitted from this.

Your role was comically crucial, in the best way possible. Making what seemed to be wild claims to their ears, but with a certain glint in your eyes, prompting them to do as you say. However, those “wild claims” most of the times were proven true by experimentation which leads to further instances of them seeking out your bold claims. When you weren't making bold claims (when the lingering sense of caution catches up to you), you find yourself working alongside Sky as Viktor and Jayce worked in the frontlines.

In those moments, as your eyes wander towards what happened before you, your mind tries to convince you that what captivated you incessantly were the towering ornate windows of the lab, mind claiming that its architecture made the sunlight streaming in through it look like a golden waterfall was what attracted you- and not the absolute paragon of the lab with his side to you, hunched over whatever new circuitry that needed enhancements, graceful features slightly pressured within facial muscles as concentration weighed down on them, dark auburn hair tangled softly in long fingers which absentmindedly ran through them every once in a while.

Sometimes boyish, sometimes sober and sometimes with barely contained glee, his smiles captivated you to no end, as you wonder how a man managed to look carefree and sagely simultaneously. Your hands would slow down on whatever task it was occupied with as your gaze follows his, until something makes him tilt his pretty head in your direction, making you throw your gaze pointedly to the task back at hand.

When he stands next to you, pointing out something or making slight quips about your work, your mind lingers trying to clutch at whatever it could from him, leaving you wondering what his delicate hands would do to guide you through the work, craving laughs in the sound of that voice. Left you to blissfully smile to yourself stupidly after making sure no one beheld your pining. Eyes following him with...

No. Not pining.

Just admiration. Respect- yes. You reassure yourself.

Viktor would be the first person to greet you in the lab early morning, his home being in the academy itself as he served more purposes there and your memory didn't fail to register his handwritten comments over your English notes (compared to his, Jayce's and sometimes Sky's scribbles in a language you regarded as gibberish for your eyes) improving or referring to them in English as well, or the times when he would leave books in your table which you had referred to in passing while rambling about research and even catch him making an extra cup of coffee early in the morning which shows up at your desk as he takes his.

The light was probably playing tricks on you because why did it seem like his gaze stayed on the back of your head when you turn?

“Teleportation is possible if we quantum tunnel those particles from our current station to the desired location.” You say to him, back at the present.

“If we rip apart the molecules and atoms of the said object, wouldn't it be destroyed, even when reassembled would it be with life?” Viktor questions.

You go silent, your lips slightly pouting.

He chuckles and Jayce shakes his head.

“I think we all deserve a break.” Jayce says finally, taking the clipboard from Viktor's hands and putting them away on his table. “Maybe let's all go out and have tea to clear our heads.”

“Sure. I know a good cafe nearby…” Viktor says, which rings bells in your head. Oh you were supposed to be there today- Gina had helped you with learning baking a few days ago, and she expected you to do a follow up soon. You didn't want to disappoint her.

“Eh, yes, I too had something coming up…” you laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “I promise I’ll be right back after you guys get back from your break.” Viktor nods, giving you permission to leave. “Don't forget to sign the register.” He reminds you.

“I won't!” You say quickly before turning to the door, giving Sky a little wave and vanishing out of the lab. You were glad you mentioned working at a second job (though you didn't specify which) to Viktor so that complications could be avoided.

After you left, Jayce removed his lab coat. “So you were saying?” He smiles at Viktor.

“Ah yes, I said I know a place very close to your old laboratory.” Viktor confirms before he, Sky and Jayce start to tidy up before leaving.

_______________________________

Blown to bits at the core of his own sanctuary, the flesh clinging to the bones of his face, wet bandages clad over them creating a rough resemblance of a discernible face as his gaze skittered over the tanks filled with purple poison. Singed was no stranger to the acrid fumes of sickening chemicals and faint metallic tang of blood. He had managed to escape multiple chem spills, and managed to avoid many in his own accord as the eye of Zaun commands him to. To think a random explosion from one of the scuffles broke free from the restraints of the forging area where Silco fought Vander and took most of his hard work and his face along with it was mildly infuriating.

The rusted metal table which functioned as whatever the moment called for it to, held captive a humongous man, strapped to its cold surface with wires and leathers. It was not Singed's intentions, but he has learnt to accept that the more pain a subject has, the more it struggled for life; life which was wasted in his laboratory. Thus he did not desire it. However, the subject at hand was not related to anything he deemed an improvement, or a necessity.

Oh, how he hated distractions.

The thrashing around from the human in the metal desk was getting rougher, fear etched into every crevice of his scarred face- mirrors in his mind reflecting his past agony in this very same lab. The blue gem which was thrown at him while he was fighting the woman had lead to him plummeting down to pain, as he wished to get evaporated in the next fight, if he were to loose. Any ill fate was better than this.

Singed approaches the table, a syringe filled with purple agony at hand, expression unreadable under the bandages pulled over his face and layers of cloth covering the mouth area. The man didn't need to see his face in order to start screaming.

"The less you move, the better." An uncaring cold scientist's words, ringing like thousand screams in the man's ear. Lucky were the ones already gone.

The clinical voice says, as the syringe enters the man's already purplish veins with a soft pop, trickling the contents of it in thick streams into his body, gutteral screams emanating from the throat of the tortured.

"Tame the demons within at your will."

________________________________

“Is this much sugar even necessary?”

You ask Gina who was holding in a laugh as she faces your apron wrapped, covered in batter countenance. It would've been better for her if she hadn't let you work in the environment of a kitchen where you struggled to keep up with her expertise and art of baking, yet she found something adorably endearing in moments like these when you stuck around, however ridiculously amateur your skills in baking were.

Your incredulous stares, overly concentrated face at the rising yeast, absolutely poor baking puns and laughter synchronizing with hers made her feel lighter. The influx of difficult customers, keeping tabs on the cash register, dirty dishes that didn't seem to end and many more undesirables which came packaged along with her passion of baking were still there- ever present. However, with you, it didn't seem to bother her that much- as if the demon lost its horns and fangs.

She would never let her soft heart full of friendliness sweet as her pastries flutter about you outwardly, but its existence is made evident in her presence next to you.

From your side, you adored her company, and knew that she would feel guilty in keeping you in her cafe if she found out you work in the high priority glittering hextech department now. So, you keep your mouth sealed about the matter.

“You have no idea how bland it would be if you didn't add that much- I mean it's the kind of product that matters.” She smiles, as she restocks the front shelves of red velvet cakes.

“I’m going to get diabetes.” You groan.

“Oh? I didn't hear that when you ate my sweetest cupcakes this morning!” she chuckles, “working with them is what gives you diabetes?” you carefully stifle a chuckle.

Suddenly, the bell on top of the entrance dings and Gina quickly stands up, going to greet new customers in the front as you resume your work in the kitchen as she said.

“Hello there, welcome!” You could hear her cheery voice from the kitchen as you struggled to hold the bowl still as you whisked the mixture inside it, but what she says next makes you almost drop it.

“Oh hi, Viktor! You're early…and you brought friends!”

What are they doing over here?!

Oh wait, you were in a cafe. As a temporary Baker. You mentally facepalm.

Continuing to do whatever you were doing, but slower so that you could hear the voices of your friends from the other room, ordering their food and chatting away with Gina and each other. You hoped they wouldn't come to the kitchen. Compared to Gina who managed to look absolutely lovely even after spending hours baking and managing her store, you looked like you were hit by a hurricane of baking products, and you had only managed to bake one batch of the cupcakes, with yellow frosting over them. By this time Gina would have had multiple batches up and ready, the previous set already flying off the shelves.

Again, mixed with the panic of letting her down, you clatter around with pots and pans frantically, accidentally dropping the ladle on the counter, which splatters a dollop of cream on your face.

“What was that?” Jayce's curious voice.

“Oh! It's my friend- and my helper.” Gina's cheerful laugh. “That reminds me! She has been making something brand new, and I need someone to taste test it besides myself…” you are very familiar with the gentle hum at the end of her sentence, the face she makes when trying to convince someone.

“Oh why not!” The equally oblivious Sky says.

No. No. No…

“Yes. I would like to meet her too, if she is willing.” The soft clipped accent, which seemed innocently curious about his friend's new friend.

You would've ran out of there, but the windows were too small and breaking the concrete with your bare fists (while actually possible) would disrupt Gina's bakery.

Gina hurries into the kitchen, grinning excitedly as she takes the tray and puts it in your hands, hurriedly pushing you towards the door, a delighted smile on her beautiful face.

“G-Gina…I…I don't…!”

“Hey it's okay! I know these people, they're fine!” Gina responds, presuming that you were unfamiliar with the three people who sat in the next room.

Though, why were you so nervous, and your hands tensing around the tray of cupcakes?

“And here she is!” Gina presents you before then with a flourish as a stunned silence falls over the room before Sky and Jayce simultaneously go, “Y/N?!”

“What? You know her?” Gina asks, her eyes wide.

“That's our partner in the hextech research facility!” Jayce says delightfully, smiling at you and Gina as you let out a sigh.

“Hextech research?!” Gina exclaims, her eyes darting from your sheepish smile to Jayce.

“Yes, she and I both were included together.” Sky smiles.

“Oh…!”

“I didn't know you baked.” Every head turns towards the differently abled scientist, who sat with his chin on top of his fist, on a propped up arm on the table, his eyes fixed on the tray you held.

“I…I don't. Gina taught me.” You explain quickly.

“Hmm? Let me see.” Viktor's hand reaches out and your breath hitches as he picks one of the cupcakes from the tray. You suddenly snap out of his peculiar gaze and quickly offer Jayce and Sky a cupcake each as well. You followed their gestures with your gaze as they ate and Jayce spoke first.

“It isn't half bad!” He offers, as Sky also joins in, “I love the sweetness…” as more mild compliments come from the two, your ego begins to rise again.

You're strong, working in the highest department of this place and a good Baker? The smallest of self assured smirks which ranged back from the fight you had with one of Silco's goons was traveling to your lips when suddenly…

“This lacks in texture, appearance and flavor. The frosting seems overly gritty and the overall issue seems to be the texture of cardboard.”

All heads turn towards the man once more, stunned into silence at what he just said.

“Viktor! Come on, it's not that bad!” Sky tries, but Viktor takes another bite from the cupcake before meeting your gaze again. “She added too much sugar and let it sit in the oven too long.” Says the man who was voluntarily or involuntarily subjected to little lessons about baking from his friend and favourite cafe owner.

“Vik, why…” Jayce sighs, but then is immediately interrupted by your confused voice.

“N-no… he's… he's actually right!” Even though Gina had insisted on certain measurements for sweetening and softening, you hadn't particularly stuck to it as you should have, and being called out on it was strangely…

Relieving.

It wasn't sugarcoated, or just being kind to spare your feelings. It was actual advice on and pin point info on where you could improve, giving you soft butterflies in your stomach rather than a sting as you expected.

“Maybe stick to teleportation for now, particles as you said?” Golden eyes were still lingering.

“Okay, first off- mango flavors are exotic, and you know how hard it is to perfect-” Gina’s defense for you is suddenly cut short by your exclamation.

“Wait! What did you say?”

“Umm… mango flavors are exotic…”

“Exotic…” you repeat softly, the gears in your head turning.

Matter was theoretically transported through wormholes in the space time continuum in your realm. Something which connected space and time, as one single entity and punctured a hole through the fabric of it; much like the one which took you here. Exotic matter was something completely theoretical and only existed in paper in your dimension. Something which could enable man made wormholes- something with properties so bizarre, so outlandish and probably dangerous.

The hex crystal energy…

“Viktor!” You put down the tray suddenly, leaning towards him. “Have we tested the charge isolation to be of negative mass?”

Viktor's eyes widen, as well as Jayce's and Sky’s. “Negative mass? You mean if it could repel…? The space could be kept open!”

“We haven't tested analogously to electric charges…” Jayce says suddenly, standing up.

“Why don't we apply that property somehow into the ring?” You say and Sky grins. “We could try!”

Excitement courses through your veins at their words. However, suddenly reality strikes you. You cannot leave right now- you were on duty in the cafe.

“You…you guys go.” You say softly, before you feel an arm on your shoulder.

“What! No, you go with them, silly! What is this? You drop that idea and stay here? No!” Gina's voice makes your heart swell at her kindness. “But…” you start.

“No buts! Get out, you have something to do!” Gina giggles, shaking your shoulders slightly as you laugh. “O-okay…”

“Besides, you said you'll be back after our break.” Viktor interjects, also standing up. “Obey the rules, assistant.”

“Sure, boss…” you smirk.

“Let me just pay for this, and I'll catch up with you all. You go.” Viktor gestures for you, Sky and Jayce to head out.

“You'll pay for my coffee too?” Jayce exaggeratedly pulls an expression of surprise. “Oh, my gosh Vik…!”

“keep up that attitude and I won't, Mr.Talice.” Viktor's brows furrow but his irritated expression is ruined by the slight upward curve of the corner of his lips.

“Touché.” Jayce grins. “Come on guys, let's go.”

As the three of you head out, Viktor turns to the counter top to face Gina who was still grinning with the enthusiastic excitement over hex crystals; apparently contagious.

“Gina…”

“Yes?”

“Could you please pack all of these for me, to go?”

Gina looks confusedly at what Viktor was gesturing at. The tray full of yellow frosted cupcakes you made.

“Wait, but you said…” she starts, one eyebrow raised.

“I know what I said- just, please?”

Gina's eager gaze didn't miss the slight dust of pink in his hollow cheeks, as he tried to school his expression to one of sobriety. A grin spreads on her own face, eyes narrowing.

“Sure sure…” She says in a sing-song voice, as she picks up the tray of cupcakes you made, going to pack it up neatly- as she hoped you would catch glimpse of it in Viktor's hands.

_______________________________

Chapter 12 is available NOW on my Tumblr page.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

A small handful of songs I associate with A Glint, a Spark. (Spoilers for both that fic and Memory, Heavy in My Heart.)

Arms Outstretched - Griffin McElroy

As I alluded to in the MHIMH playlist, Arms Outstretched was the song I had all but set AGAS to, for the animatic in my head. The progression of it from being kind of downtrodden, to this moment of hope, and then a happy epilogue was pretty perfect, both for the idea I actually went with, and the one I may still write.

Chapters 1 & 2

Place to Start - Mike Shinoda

Do I even have a decision? Feeling like I'm living in a story already written. Am I part of a vision made by somebody else? / Am I out of conviction with no wind in the sail, too focused on the end and simply ready to fail?

Cause I'm tired of feeling like I can't control this; tired of feeling like every next step's hopeless. Tired of feeling like what I build might break apart, I don't want to know the end, all I want is a place to start.

I don't have a ton to elaborate on with the lyrics. The first part just meshes really nicely with the theme of being unable to influence events that have already happened, and having to take them as they come. The second part resonates particularly well with the first chapter, in my opinion. I also like having a song from the same artist in both halves of the main story, and the contrasting tones.

Chapters 3-9:

The Heart of a Graveyard - Demon Hunter

Tell me that your final home is not a shot in the dark; tell me that your hopes and dreams don't end in the heart of a graveyard.

Tonally, it doesn't fit perfectly with the rest of this list, but the subject matter is pretty on the mark. There's a sense of preparing for the worst while still hoping for the best that I like, particularly in this context.

Chapter 10:

Final Battle: Malladus (From "The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks") - The Noble Demon

(The portion up to 0:46 is an intro, and not the most relevant to this list; the actual battle theme starts warming up after that.) A friend unintentionally reminded me that I love this track, and since that conversation happened smack at the climax of MHIMH, I naturally connected the dots. This would correspond to the recorded battle with Arceus, because the track for it in canon PLA just does not fit this version. I chose this remix in particular because it really emphasized the woodwind notes in parts-- which made sense re: the Azure Flute-- and because it has that underlying, train-chugging percussion. It's always struck me as a very triumphant battle theme, which fit beautifully.

Chapter 11:

Welcome to the World of Pokemon - Super Pokemon Mystery Dungeon

It's wondrous and mysterious, but gentle and a bit low-key at the same time, which I think makes it work very well for the build up this chapter, and most of the time spent in the Hall of Origin.

Mysterious Rainbow Girl - Wandersong

The same goes for this track; I was pretty torn as to which one I liked better, so I ended up keeping both for a little bit of variation.

Chapter 12:

On the Beach at Dusk - Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time, Darkness & Sky

I had this one set aside specifically for the scene at the top of Dragonspiral Tower, where the reality of the situation is beginning to sink in. If you're familiar with Explorers, there... might be something of a parallel to be read into the situations they 'play' over.

Misc:

The yet untitled song from The Dreadful Demise of the Dinosaurs - Puppet History

A lonely life among the stars, my destination veiled and far away, but I knew one day we'd find each other. Then in the dark, a glint, a spark, the greens and blues, be still my heart-- and once I hit, that's it, I'm here forever.

While I'm here, I should probably include the fic's namesake. It's really only the one verse (~0:25-0:47), because this song has a very specific subject matter and thesis, but that one passage really stuck with me in this context. The first half definitely resonates most strongly with chapter 11, but I was also aiming to match the second to 12-- specifically "the greens and blues, be still my heart" to the scene on Dragonspiral, and to end with the promise of "I'm here forever"

[myreia]

Divergence of the Heart

CHAPTER SIX: PROMISES KEPT, PROMISES MADE

Chapter Rating: Mature (full story rating is Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 7,625 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

Aureia sips at her wine, barely cognizant of the smooth, rich flavour flooding her mouth, distracted as she is by Aymeric. Friendship, he proposed, but it is more than that and they both know it. Something better left unnamed for now. She doubts either of them know where this evening will end, but to be frank, she would rather not think on it. She wants nothing more than to enjoy her time here in his company, without distraction or worry.

The food is as good as it smells, featuring dishes she knows and more that she doesn’t. The last time she had a meal this fine Raubahn lost an arm, but she has a feeling the limbs of all attendees to this dinner are safe tonight. She bites her tongue, refraining from making the joke. Even with a glass and a half in her system, she’s not a fool enough to overshadow the evening with memories of the bloody banquet.

Aymeric is more talkative than she has ever seen him. Of course he is habitually loquacious, rivalling only Urianger for the amount of words he can squeeze into a sentence before running out of breath, but the way he relaxes over the course of dinner brings a smile to her face. The politician is always simmering underneath, but the more their conversation wanders, the less present he becomes. So rarely have they had the chance to talk about topics unrelating to war or politics, she knows she is seeing a side of him he rarely shares with others, if at all.

She knows the feeling all too well. Idle chatter about unimportant things isn’t something she’s used to even among friends. Outside of Tataru’s company, that is. Then again, Tataru makes it a point for her to talk about non-world-ending events on pain of death, so maybe that doesn’t count.

This is good. For both of you.

“…would that I could have seen such a momentous event,” he says, his eyes sparkling with interest. “Thank you, truly—”

“Wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t so bloody cold,” she replies with mock sarcasm. “Why is it so cold here? Is it always so cold?”

“Ah.” He pauses, lowering his fork. “It has been this way for some seven years now. Ever since the Calamity overrode the land with frost and fury.”

“Oh.” She flushes, pressing her lips together. She should have known that; or, at the very least, put two and two together. This side of the world was ravaged by horrors she could only imagine from the safety of her post in Ilsabard when Dalamud fell from the sky. “What was it like before?”

A strange expression falls over his face, lost in thought. Whatever memory he is retreading resonates with fondness and loss. “Green valleys and rolling hills, so vibrant in their colours no painting could capture them,” he says quietly. “Lakes clear as glass reflecting skies of pure azure. I remember there were small periwinkle flowers that bloomed in abundance near Whitebrim Font. My mother… the viscountess… She was very fond of them. Now that I come to think of it, I cannot remember their name.”

He pauses and glances across the table at her, the memory subsiding. “I am certain any botanist could tell you the extent of what was lost far more keenly than I,” he continues conversationally. “A whole land irrevocably changed. We cannot return to what we have lost, but perhaps we can look to what we have gained. A new land sprung up beneath our very feet. In time, who knows what will come to call these snowbound highlands home? As destructive as the Calamity was, I would consider it rebirth rather than destruction. For Coerthas was not destroyed. We remain.”

She smiles. “I like that.”

He returns the smile and reaches for the decanter, refilling his glass. “I suspect you will admonish me for this, yet I must admit I have the desire to apologize for our inclement weather, as far outside my control as it is.”

Aureia snorts, unable to hide her laughter. “Don’t,” she says and pushes her glass across the table. Not necessary, perhaps, but why shouldn’t she be indulgent when in the company of friends? “There’s comfort in it. Familiarity. Predictable, if you know what you’re getting into, what to expect, and come prepared. Too many Eorzeans balk at a little snow.”

“Speaking from personal experience, I presume?”

“It’s not exactly a climate the city-states are used to, no. Three years on this continent and I’ve yet to see genuine snowfall outside of Gridania. It’s funny to think I would have had an easier time adjusting had I found my way to Ishgard rather than Ul’dah. Thanalan was unbearable after Ilsabard. I’m used to snow, not heat. The desert was suffocating enough outside the city, but inside? Like being trapped in a hothouse.”

He pauses, gripping the decanter, and a strange look crosses his face. Too late she realizes the implications of what she has said, the conclusion he must have come to. She flinches, mind whirling as she grasps at any explanation that will do, truth be damned. It’s not that she wants to lie to him—of course she doesn’t, she never has, the thought of it makes her sick to her stomach—but that she can’t bring him into her past. It is not a place she is willing to go with him. He doesn’t deserve to suffer in those trenches with her.

“I take it you spent time in northern Ilsabard, then,” he says carefully and tips the decanter, the deep red liquid pouring out in a rush.  

She swallows the lump in her throat, her eyes drawn to his hands. He fills the glass near to the brim and pulls back. A bead of wine bubbles at the lip, clinging to the edge. It falls, the spot splotching the tablecloth. A single crimson spot on a sea of white. Like blood in the snow, Coerthan, Garlean, or otherwise.

Trust him. You have to trust him. If you can’t trust him, you can’t trust anyone.

“I did,” she says finally. “I was there for many years.”

Aymeric sets the decanter down. “The Imperial capital?” he asks.

“Close to it.” Her throat is raw. A lie, of a sorts. Stationed there for a time, but on the outskirts. She never stepped foot in the Imperial palace or the districts that composed the true capital. She may have been born within Garlemald’s borders, but people like her were never considered as such. They would never let a non-native like her, with dangerous magic coursing in her veins, closer than that. “Long enough to adapt. Eorzeans think Garlemald is bitter and unforgiving, but they do not know the half of it. It is far more than the cold and the ice. There is no survival if you are unprepared.”

“I have heard similar when Lucia has seen fit to speak of it. You have all my respect and more, Aureia—” He cuts himself short, laughing awkwardly as he quickly corrects himself. “Of course you always have—I didn’t mean to say that I did not before—but knowing this, even in the smallest capacity, knowing what trials you must have faced on your journey here…”

You don’t know. You have no idea. The bitterness of the thought takes her by surprise and shame flushes her cheeks. How could he know any different? He must be imagining some grand escape by yet another defector with too much good in their heart to endure living in a tyrannical nation. Not an operative with too much blood on her hands, who fled for selfish reasons.

Avoiding his gaze, Aureia reaches for her glass and disappears behind it, taking a long drink. Aymeric exhales a long breath and runs a hand over his chin, lost in thought. If her behaviour is odd to him, he either has not noticed or thinks nothing of it.

“Aureia, may I confess something?” he says after a moment.

She lowers the glass and nods.

“For countless decades Garlemald has been an enemy to all nations upon this star. But oft I have wondered where we would stand had history shown us a gentler hand, one of collaboration and cooperation rather than one of ruthless war. What could we have learned from Garlean expertise had the few not corrupted the many with tyrannical ideals and gluttonous expansionism? What could they have learned from us?”

He leans against the table and holds his gaze to hers, his eyes blazing with passion. How long has he been withholding these thoughts, waiting for the right person to tell? Someone he trusts irrevocably? “Ishgard has its own bloody history, a fanatical fabrication upheld by the very souls charged with her protection while they bled her people dry. As Ishgard recovers, I am left to wonder whether the cycles we have suffered here are not also in play in a land like Garlemald. As our nation has been isolated from the brutality of their war by virtue of being preoccupied by another, I would dare utter this before the Alliance when our coalition is so young and untested. But I believe there is a mirror in our greatest enemy, one that reflects a terrible truth we see in ourselves.”

“I don’t know if many would agree with you,” Aureia replies grimly. “It’s an empire. It’s not a place you can forgive.”

“I do not speak of forgiveness. They have harmed and will continue to harm the world greatly. But to paint every citizen who lives beneath their banners with the same broad stroke does not sit well with me. It would be the height of hypocrisy after what Ishgard herself has partaken in.”

“Perhaps.”

“I am not a faultless man, Aureia, I know this to be true more than anyone. I still have much to learn. But if there is one lesson that has remained with me throughout my time in command, it is that leadership does always speak for the people. Those with power will always have an agenda at play, for good or for ill. I will not condemn civilians for the place of their birth. When they have been shown no other path than one that has led to dogmatic beliefs and unquestioned chauvinism, perhaps they are as much victims of their government’s regime as those who have fallen to Garlemald’s might.”

“And those who are not civilians?” The question is out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “In a future where the Alliance wars with Garlemald and the Empire is brought to its knees, what grace would you extend to those you fought on the battlefield? Would you see them as victims worthy of help or perpetrators deserving of punishment?”

“That is a difficult question. One that has no easy answer.”

What would do you, Aymeric, if you knew? That I was one of those very people.

“I would like to hear it.”

“Then I would say I have none. For war only muddies the waters, never cleanses it. We know all too well how the annals of history are written in the hand of the victor. There are casualties on both sides of any war. If we are to judge our enemies by the harshest laws, then we must look to our own leadership and judge them by the same standards.”

She blinks, uncertain what to say, and looks down, chasing the remnants of her meal across her plate. The evening’s conversation has led them in a direction she didn’t predict. And all from a discussion about the weather…

The again, Aymeric’s sincerity has struck her deeply. She has never known anyone like him, really. His unshaking resolve paired with his unflinching acknowledgement of his own flaws… He has a capacity to see the good in people without excusing terrible actions. What he has told her tonight will stay with her for a long time.

“I apologize.”

His voice interrupts her thoughts. She blinks again, clearing her vision, and finds him staring at her from across the table, concern in his eyes.

“I did not mean to ask you to revisit painful memories,” he continues. “Whatever is in your past you have no obligation to tell me unless you wish to.”

She raises her head and picks up her glass, swirling her wine and fixing him with an arch look. “Did you know you say sorry too much, Aymeric?” she says.

His eyes widen, an embarrassed pink flushing his cheeks. “I—well—perhaps I do, but it is out of respect, is it not? I apologize, I had not realized—” He stops, cutting himself off as he hears the words he has just spoken. Chuckling, he shakes his head at himself and takes his wine in hand. “I am a fool, aren’t I?”

She smiles. “No,” she says, taking a drink. The wine warms her, flushing across her chest. Despite the gravity of their conversation, she feels content. Safe. Happy. “At least, no more than the rest of us.”

“I should strive to do better.”

“You should strive to be no more than yourself.”

Aymeric pauses, once again surprised by her words, and raises his glass to his lips. He drinks deeply, savouring the wine as he regards her from across the table. There’s that look in his face again… The one she can’t place. He seems enchanted and she hasn’t even done anything. Who is she to hold his attention? His friendship? His love? Though she wants to believe differently, she can’t ignore the deep sense of wrong within her. That this is some horrible mistake. That someone like her doesn’t deserve someone like him.  

She drums her fingers against the tabletop, desperately searching for a way out. She thinks back, winding the conversation back to before it slipped into uncomfortable territory. The weather. The snow.

An idea forms.

“You know I don’t mind the cold,” she says, raising her glass to her lips. She nurses her wine, her fingers dancing across the table. She waits, noting how he watches her as she turns her palm upwards. With a breath, she commands the smallest threads of aether, her fingers crackling with frost as ice manifests in her hand. It dances above her palm, reflecting the warm glow of the candlelight in its crystalline heart. “I have a few tricks.”

He smiles and watches enraptured, the remains of his meal forgotten. “Ah, of course,” he replies. “The talents of a black mage are never to be underestimated.”

“Useful in Ul’dah.” She relaxes her fingers as the ice splits into three small shards and rotate in a circle above her palm. Show off. “On scorching days when I could barely think.”

Adrenaline is already coursing through her. Creating ice is a shock to the system, jolting her mana regeneration into overdrive. The font is infinite, regenerative, powerful. To have so much mana flood through her at once makes her head spin, her heart beat faster, every fibre of her being pulsing with untouched power. So simple, yet so addictive.

Aureia exhales and dismisses the ice. It dissipates in a puff of air, snuffing out the nearby candles. “This is more helpful here,” she says, summon a small ball of flame. She splits it into three and lets it play across her fingers. The orb burn brightly and happily, the light warming her skin. Fire-aspected aether is so often deemed the crux of destructive magic, but she knows better. As devastating as its power can be, fire can also soothe. Warm the hearth. Light the way. A spark in the darkness. “I don’t need much when travelling the Coerthan wilds.”

Aymeric watches in rapt silence as she twists her hand and sends the orbs flying, each alighting on a candle’s wick and setting it aflame. “Estinien thought I was quite the idiot last year. Running off into the snows by myself.”

He chuckles. “Estinien has a low opinion of all adventurers. Himself included.”

The pained look on his face does not go unnoticed. “He will return someday, Aymeric,” she says.

“I would like to believe it. But some days I am not so certain.”

“I think he was right to leave—”

“Without informing a soul? Vanishing without a trace? That is true to form. He is gone, and for those who remain, those to whom he extended a rare hand of friendship, are left to only speculate where time and tide will take him. Or how many moons will pass before he sees fit to return.”

She pauses, meeting his eyes. She has never heard him speak in anger about those he holds dear, at least not like this. Estinien was a friend to them both, but Aymeric knows him in a way she never will. Their bond runs deep, one of comradeship and brothers-in-arms. That he gave her no notice before departing doesn’t phase her, nor can she blame him for it. She may have very well done the same thing had she been in his place. But for Aymeric… Forget Ishgard, to walk out on him without a word has stung him.

And of course he is too polite to show much anger.

Without thinking much of it, Aureia reaches across the table and slips her hand into his. “I miss him, too,” she says softly. “Give him the time he needs, he deserves that much. As I said, I think he was right to leave. There can be no recovery in a place that reminds him of everything that was done to him.”

He exhales a long breath and closes his eyes. “You are right, of course. I spoke in haste and ill of a very dear friend who deserves compassion and understanding, not grievance and blame. Forgive me.”

“Aymeric. What did I say about you apologizing too much?”

He chuckles, shaking his head, and opens his eyes. She catches a flash of a smile in the flickering candlelight and he squeezes her hand once before retreating. “What say you to another round, my friend?” he says, raising his cup.

Aureia glances downwards. When did she finish her glass? She can’t remember. “Why not?” she replies and grabs the decanter. Normally she would avoid a third glass except on nights when she’s intent on drinking herself into oblivion, but with Aymeric she feels… Well. It’s not like she has anything to do tomorrow. And he offered.

He rises from his chair as she refills their wine, reaching for the platter of pastries and shifting it down the table. They have yet to taste any of them, distracted by their conversation as they are. He returns to his seat and clears his throat, hovering awkwardly as if he is waiting for her to make the first move.

“You must know we Ishgardians enjoy indulging ourselves,” he says, taking his glass from her. “It would be very poor manners indeed for me to deny you the first taste of dessert. Please, go ahead.”

She pauses, arching an eyebrow. There must be a reason for his hesitance. Why does she have the feeling he is planning something? “All right,” she says suspiciously, reaching outwards. She doesn’t know half the names of the desserts on the plate, but a familiar red pastry catches her eye at once. “Oh gods, tell me you didn’t.”

He chuckles with laughter and takes a long drink of his wine, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I heard whispers that you were fond of such little treats.”

“I was! I am! I—”

“Are you blushing, Aureia?”

“No, I—” She shoots him a dirty look. “It’s just that these are made with snurbleberries. What kind of a name is snurbleberry? The Warrior of Light can’t go around announcing she likes snurbleberry tarts, it would ruin the image—oh don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, I… Fine. Perhaps I should consider this vengeance for all the times I’ve teased you.”

“Perhaps. Though, in the spirit of honest conversation, I would be bereft if you stopped. Your spirited remarks are a reminder that I am not confined to the stoic and stately countenance required to be upheld by the Lord Speaker.”

Warmth floods through her. Or is that the wine? “I used to love these,” she says, plucking a tart from the plate. The red berries stain her fingers. “I haven’t had one since I was exiled from Ul’dah. How did you know?”

“As I said, I heard whispers.”

“Mhm.” She takes a bite. “Whispers. I’m sure.”

“And by that I mean to say that I spoke with Tataru. She was quite keen to spill your most closely guarded secret.”

She laughs, mouth full, and finishes the tart. “She’s a good friend. Knows me better than she lets on. We have been through a lot together. Her, me, and Alphinaud.”

He nods, his smile warm. “You have. It was by terrible circumstances that the three of you sought refuge here, but I am forever gladdened that you did. Our lives would be quite changed had it been different.”

The conversations stills, lulled to comfortable silence by sweets and wine. Aureia sips at her drink, pleasantly full and warm, her gaze passing around the dining room. She can’t remember an evening where she has enjoyed herself so thoroughly and so peacefully. When they are on their own—without the meddling of stuffy butlers—there is something about Aymeric that keeps her grounded. At peace.

She doesn’t want this evening to end. 

“Aureia,” Aymeric’s voice says quietly, interrupting her thoughts.

“Hm?”

She glances across the table to find him risen to his feet, a hand extended. Ever the gentleman.

“Would you join me in the parlour?” he asks with a half-bow.

She arches an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to bring the wine?”

“I don’t believe I could deny you even if I wanted to.”

Glass gripped in one hand, she follows him through the double-doors at the end and across the threshold into the parlour. The room is smaller to the sitting room they occupied before, though similarly decorated in plush furnishings and soft blues. Cozier. More private. Her gaze wanders, taking in the portraits lining the walls and hung above the hearth. Family portraits, hunting scenes, brave knights and fearsome dragoons… Naegling makes an appearance in more than one. These must be the ancestors of House Borel.

Not his family by blood, but his family by choice.

He settles into a couch by the hearth, resting his wine glass idly on the armrest. She joins him and sinks into the cushions, curling her legs beneath her. He looks different here in the comfort of the parlour. Relaxed. More at ease. His proximity sends an excited shiver down her spine. She has seen him countless times, but now she wonders whether she has ever truly seen him. The deep midnight of his hair, the faint flush on his cheeks, the way the light catches his familiar blue and gold earring. The curve of his lips.  

She presses her glass to her mouth, the rich wine heavy on her tongue. She wonders what it would be like to kiss him. She wants to. She imagines it would be nice. He must be good at it. How many lovers has he had, she wonders? He’s so determined, pragmatic, married to his work. It doesn’t seem like he has had the time for that kind of thing. And yet he is far too much of a romantic not to.  

Her stomach twists into a knot. There it is. The familiar embarrassment rushing up within her, the horrid sense of wrong, wrong, wrong. She’s not normal. She knows this. The things that come so easily to others are not easy for her. She hates the judgement, self-inflicted as it is.

Would he think differently of her, if he knew? How incongruent it is—a warrior and a saviour on one hand, capable of striking down primals and stemming the tides of chaos, and a shamefully inexperienced woman on the other, who at over thirty would be considered an unsalvageable old maid by Ishgardian standards. There are girls half her age who are married.  

Not that Aymeric thinks much of Ishgardian standards.

You have got to get over this.  

She hides from the thought by gulping down a mouthful. When she resurfaces, her head feels light and buoyant, buzzing from the drink.

“I think it’s my turn,” Aureia says finally, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Aymeric raises an eyebrow. “For…?”

She nudges him playfully with a foot. “You asked me a personal question. It’s time for me to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s only fair.”

“I won’t argue that. What would like to know?”

She pauses, wetting her lips as she thinks. “Your parents. What were they like?”

He doesn’t answer. The longer they sit in silence, the more her panic grows—perhaps she misspoke, perhaps it was a mistake to go down this path. She told herself she wouldn’t pry into his family history, but her curiosity won out in the end. She wants to know, if only to know him better.  

“My foster parents…” Aymeric speaks quietly, lost in thought. He rests his hands against his knees, his wine glass held loosely in his hands, his eyes lingering on the portraits on the wall, the generations who came before him. “Were I to describe them in a single word, I believe I could choose no other word than resolute. They were elderly when I was born. No heirs. The Borel line would have died with them had they not taken me in.”

She curls up, leaning her head against the back of the couch, and listens with rapt attention. There is as much love in his voice as there is pain.

“They knew there would be talk. That their House’s reputation would be tarnished by adopting a bastard boy. But when it came down to a choice between sacrificing their reputation in the eyes of the nobility or surrendering their house entirely, they chose the former. Too many depended on them. Loyal knights whose fathers served their fathers, and their fathers before them. Servants who had been with the family for generations. They had a right to call this house home as much as my parents did. Had they died without an heir, they would find themself in need of different employment. The knights would be absorbed into the personal guard of rival houses, the servants scattered among the staff of the nobility if they were fortunate or to the Brume if they were not. Benoit and Violette did not wish to condemn those sworn to them and under their care to such instability.”

Aymeric clears his throat and lowers his head. She can barely make out his face in this light. His profile his dark, the lines of his sharp, proud features backlit by the crackling hearth.

“And so they were steadfast in their decision to raise me as their own. The scandal of it haunted them for the rest of their lives, but they cared not. They were upstanding members of high society, the most noble of nobles. For every cruel word spoken about them, they simply smiled and carried on, secure in their decision. And they were happy in their final days. Content to see me grown. Benoit, proud of how I had proven myself in battle and honoured to pass me Naegling, the symbol of his lineage. Violette, proud of the caring and determined soul she believed me to be.”

“How old were you when they passed?”

“Fifteen.”

A lump forms in her throat. Fifteen. So young. Too young. Still a child, though he may not have been considered as such at the time. Ishgard is far from the only nation to send their children off to war, but the unquestioned nature of the status quo does nothing to relieve the pit in her stomach. She was a child once, too. Garlemald crushed it out of her.

Aureia sips slowly, nursing her wine. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.  

He catches her eye. “They loved each other deeply. Trusted each other beyond measure. Their faith in one another saw them through the course of life, both the good and the hard. Some would say they were blessed by the Fury, to live the full lives that they did, for as long as they did. It is not often that Ishgardians reach their old age, even among the Elezen. War, grief, and illness all take many before their time.”

A pause. There is no discomfort in his voice; she knows without a doubt that he is telling her this because he wants to share it with her. Her fears of prying too far into his history dissipate. “A love like theirs was precious. Perhaps it is idealistic of me, but one day I hope to find the same, unlikely as it is given my position.”

“Aymeric…”

He raises his glass to his lips and drinks. “It is the way of the aristocracy. Family is of the highest importance, second only to our war and our faith. The relationship between noble bloodlines is ancient and complex. Marriage is a joint endeavour, a commitment struck between two households with an heir as the prize. I may be the Lord Commander, but I am also a viscount. I know the expectations set before me.”

“That’s hardly fair.”  

“And yet I understand the truth quite plainly. No, Aureia, as long as I hold Ishgard in my heart of hearts, my duty is to her and her people above all else. Personal sacrifices will be demanded, and they are ones I am content to make for the sake of this fledgling republic.”

“It shouldn’t be that way. Can’t you… I don’t know, change their minds? You are the Lord Speaker, aren’t you?”

He throws his head back and laughs, fixing her with a warm smile. “I can certain rouse discussion between the Lords and Commons and guide them as best I can,” he replies. “But no. Enacting reform within a system of governance is a far cry from changing a culture itself. I cannot expect the high and minor houses to change their views overnight. It will be a slow progress, one that I can only hope will benefit our children’s children and their children after them.”

She nods, rubbing her thumb absently against the side of her glass. This talk of love has brought a flush to her cheeks and she is once again thinking what it would be like to kiss him.

Damn it. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to. As he has said himself, there are expectations placed upon him. He will eventually need to marry. Have children. Where in that is there room for someone like her?

“And this is what your parents wanted for you?” she asks.

He glances at her. “Benoit and Violette wished only for my happiness,” he replies. “That I pursue a life worth living, whatever I believed that entailed. But there was a time when my foster mother did confess to me that she wished for me to leave Ishgard and see the world beyond our borders. And I will freely admit there was a time I yearned for that too, only to set it aside when practicality won out. However…” He trails off and he sets down his glass, shifting on the couch to face her. His fingers brush hers, tentatively taking her hand in his. “Truth be told, visiting those sweeping vistas of the Churning Mists with you at my side has reminded me of those days. I do feel the slight pangs of wanderlust, and I think… Someday, perhaps.”

Aureia meets his gaze. A part of her wants nothing more than to keep staring at him, to listen to his steady voice and fall deeper into his eyes. Another, smaller part is screaming at her to excuse herself and flee, escaping back to her miserable existence in the Forgotten Knight and forget all about him. She knows this will never work, this thing between them. Why set herself up for failure and risk hurting them both?

She swallows the panic and shoves it down. “Someday, yes,” she echoes tentatively. “Aymeric, do you think perhaps—”

A warm rumble resounds in her ears. A cat—large, orange with grey streaks, his fur fluffier than any she has ever seen—steals out from under the couch. He rises up and places his paws on the cushions by her legs, his tail swishing back and forth.

She stares at him. He stares back with large, yellow eyes.

“Sylvaine,” Aymeric chides, his tone somehow both fond and irritated. “What are you doing here?”

“Sylvaine?” Aureia asks.

The cat mews and stretches, his claws digging into the cushions and pulling at the fabric.

“My parents’ cat.” He leans forward and scratches the back of the cat’s head. “An old gentleman by any standard now, though Marcel complains he is far too lively for his age. One could say he is as much a symbol of House Borel as I am.”

The cat yawns, showing sharp teeth.

“Be careful. Majestic though he is, do not underestimate him. He has a mean streak the size of Coerthas for anyone he deems troublesome or dangerous. Or—quite frankly—anyone he thinks has looked at him wrong. Once he has judged you unworthy there is no asking for forgiveness.”

She holds back a smile. “Oh? And what counts as troublesome in his little lordship’s mind?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It changes day to day, week to week, you see. I would never dare to assume what is happening in my dearest feline friend’s mind. Though I do recall quite vividly the day he cornered the fair Lady Hermine de Gervaise in the corner of the second floor library. As the staff could not catch the dastardly creature, a dragoon was called to assist the good lady in climbing out the window and escaping to the safety of the garden below. So great was her fear of Sylvaine that it far outstripped her fear of heights, you see.”

Aureia snorts with laughter. “Poor Hermine.”

“Indeed. Poor Hermine. She never called on me again, despite her family’s insistence.”

Sylvaine mews and leaps into her lap, curling his tail around him. His weight is warm and pleasant. Friendly. Cautiously, she reaches out a hand and runs it down his back. He offers a content purr in return and snuggles deeper into her lap.

“…and the dragoon?” she asks, petting the cat. She’s not used to being around such creatures, especially household pets. The closest thing she has is Filo and her chocobo is such a notorious biter that the Holy Stables refuse to stable him. “What happened to him?”

“Hm? Oh. The lady thanked him for his service, as I recall. And he made every excuse never to see her again.”

Her eyes narrow. “Please don’t tell me that was Estinien.”

“I have indicated nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, you liar. That absolutely was Estinien, wasn’t it.”

He grins. “Old stories aside, Sylvaine is very dear to me and the staff. His temperament may be ferocious at times, but we could not want for a better guardian.” He scratches the cat fondly, watching the way he curls in her lap with amusement. “I am glad he has taken a shine to you.”

She returns his smile. Finishing off her wine, she reaches over and places the glass on the floor. She has no desire to get up and find a table when there is a cat in her lap. “Aymeric,” she begins softly. Her head is buzzing slightly. It is so comfortable here, sitting on this couch with him. Between the warmth of the hearth, the contentedness of the cat, and his company, she has never felt more at ease. “When you said someday earlier…”

“Yes?”

“You spoke of wanderlust.”

“I did. I have no shared this with many, but I have a fervent wish to see more of this world. The lands beyond Ishgard. Beyond Eorzea. It is a yearning I cannot fully explain. My mother once said I had an insatiable curiosity; perhaps it stems from that. We have turned a blind eye to the world beyond our gates for too many years. I once considered myself well-versed in the ways of the world, but your arrival here has shaken that. Indeed, the vivid accounts of your adventures and our exchanges with both the Alliance and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn have been a firm reminder that there is much I do not know.”

She pauses, careful not to jostle Sylvaine as she moves closer. “Then come with me.”

“To where?”

“Anywhere. Beyond Coerthas. Beyond Ishgard.”

“You have no idea how fervently I wish to accept such an invitation. But I cannot. My duties with the House of Lords demand my undivided attention.”

“They ask too much of you.”

“They ask nothing. It is I who must give it to them freely, for the sake of my nation. I cannot abandon them for my personal desires, no matter how much I wish I could.”

Aureia meets his eyes. “Have you considered that perhaps it is not they who do not have faith in you, but you who do not have faith in them?”

He blinks, so shocked by her statement that he is lost for words. “I… well… I…”

“The situation is perilous, I know. This new republic of yours is young and fragile. There are many in Ishgard—and the world beyond—who believe you are the sole reason why it has not fallen apart. That makes you a target.”

“We both know that all too well.” The gravity of his words is not easily missed.

“But if the Lords and the Commons are indeed so volatile that they will fall apart if you disappear for a day, then it will happen one day with or without you. You speak of trust so often, but I think, perhaps, it is you who do not trust them, rather than the other way around. Show them you have faith in them. They will eventually have to learn to govern without you.”

He sighs and bows his head, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Once again you have seen straight through to the heart of the matter,” he says. “How do you do it?”

“Sometimes you care so much you blind yourself. Or put yourself in your own way. I have a fair bit of experience with that latter one.”

Sylvaine mews and sits up. With a long stretch, he gives a great yawn and leaps down onto the floor, skidding across the rug. He prances away, tail held high, and slinks through the open door into the dining room and out of sight.

Aureia watches him go and shifts closer to Aymeric. A distant part of her mind is startled by her newfound confidence. Perhaps it’s the direction of the conversation or the comfort she feels here—or the wine. Most likely the wine. But she will seize this moment before she loses it. She has to.

“So,” she finishes, slipping her hand into his. It would be too easy to curl up against him, her head on his shoulder. “I’m going to ask again. Would you come with me?”

He squeezes her hand, his eyes unable to leave hers. Thancred would likely say something snide about him looking besotted. Her heart thunders in her chest. Between the wine and the way he’s looking at her, the desire to kiss him is overwhelming. Why shouldn’t she? She may never get another chance.

Aymeric smiles gently. “There is nothing that would make me happier—”

She kisses him.

For the briefest of moments, she feels him freeze in shock and surprise. Then he melts, his mouth warm and gentle as he kisses her in return. She trembles, her mind buzzing, giddy with astonishment at her own boldness. Without giving it much thought, she twines her hands at the back of his neck and pulls herself into his lap, straddling him. His breath catches in his throat and she senses his hesitation, his hands resting gently against the small of her back.

But he does not push her away. For a moment, they are caught in time—seconds passing, indecision mounting, as if they are both too hesitant to make the first move.

And now that she is here in his arms, it terrifies her how scared she is of losing this. Losing him.

Head fuzzy with wine and too lost in the moment to think, she does the only thing that make sense. She presses her mouth to his again and kisses him deeply—

He pulls back. “Aureia, wait,” he says.

“Hm? What for?”

Aymeric exhales a long breath. “I… This… A moment, if you would, please?”

Shame flushes her cheeks. Was she too eager? Did she misunderstand him completely? Did she misread every sign? Maybe his interest in her was simply her imagination. Fuck it, maybe those romance chapbooks really did do a number on her. This is all Tataru’s fault.

Fuck. What the hells do I do now?  

Cursing inwardly at her own stupidity, Aureia disentangles herself from Aymeric and slides off him, shifting to the far edge of the couch. Her face burns with embarrassment and she tugs awkwardly at her coat, readjusting it. It’s difficult to forget the feel of his hands on her back or his mouth on hers. For a moment, brief though it was, she was in a fantasy.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she rests her elbows on her knees and stares determinedly at the opposite wall. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was I who—”

“No. It was me—”

“Aureia—”

The door opens.

“Lord Commander, I—”

Aymeric rises to his feet and drops his hands to his sides, standing at attention. “What is it, ser?” he asks, his tone crisp and official. “News from House Fortemps?”

Aureia flushes, doing her best not to fixate on how quickly he has fallen into his professional façade. The messenger is not one she recognizes, but from the shine in his armour and the terseness in his voice, she has a feeling he is one of Artoirel’s men. The Fortemps heir has never liked her much and the distant professional courtesy he extends her has rubbed off on his knights. If he had walked in only a few seconds sooner, he would have caught them in a moment that would no doubt give Artoirel yet more ammunition to disparage her with. Not that he couldn’t put two and two together…

To his credit, the messenger either hasn’t noticed or refuses to acknowledge the empty wine glass on the floor.   

“An urgent message for the Warrior of Light,” he says with a curt bow. “I was instructed to deliver it without delay.”

Well then, spit it out already. She forces a smile on her face and gestures, silently inviting him to continue.

“Master Thancred returned to the manor a short while ago—”

Aureia’s heart drops. Thancred, returned. Thancred, at the manor. She hasn’t given him any thought for a while now. Impressive, considering how difficult it has been to excise him from her mind. So many restless nights of unanswered questions rolling around her head, wondering what went wrong and when, shoving down the hurt of seeing him and Hilda together like that. She was enjoying being free of it.

And now it has coming rushing back.

She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t relieved to hear of him. Confirmation that he is safe and sound.

“—bearing an injured maiden.”

Her ears prick up. What’s this?

She exchanges looks with Aymeric. He raises an eyebrow, but she shrugs and spreads her hands. She is as perplexed by the announcement as he is. What maiden? Who could it possibly be? Thancred has a reputation for philandering, but it is, frankly, a farce. This must be something else.

“Master Leveilleur and Mistress Tataru are tending to her wounds, but they do not like her chances. Respectfully, my lord. They have requested the Warrior of Light’s presence immediately.”

Aureia’s eyes widen. If Alphinaud is involved…

It can’t be. Alisaie…?  

His long-lost sister and twin, who diverged from her brother’s path to take matters into her own hands. Aureia doesn’t know her well and has not seen her in years. But if she is back and she is injured, if Thancred saved her… Then she knows where she has to be.

“I will go at once,” Aureia announces and rises from the couch. Blood rushes to her head and she winces, doing her best to keep her expression straight as a headache pulses between her eyes. She is regretting drinking that much wine. She may not be drunk, but from the way she is wobbling she knows she must be tipsy—and it’s going to be a pain to hide it.

Aymeric puts a gentle hand on her elbow, steadying her. Whether it is a gesture of support or to save her from further embarrassment, she doesn’t know. Her stomach twists into a knot. She doesn’t wanted to leave things left open with him like this, but she doesn’t have a choice.  

“And I shall go with you,” he says firmly. “Lead the way, ser. Mistress Malathar and I will follow.”

[mikaharuka]

The Super Mega Word Search Post!

After my Find that Word... 4x (seriously?!) post last week, I figured I'd just sit for several days as the tags added up. And add up those tags did! I was tagged by 7 people over 15 posts for a total of 108 words!

So I simplified it to 3 words/tag... or at least that was the plan, until I noticed that all but four words appeared in one chapter - Azure. And not just that - I counted 43 of the 108 words within Azure alone!

So it turned into a flexing game - sue me lol

(the purple is special - see my reblog for my shame)

@mrsmungus - apartment, arch, autumn, burn, celebrate, christen, clasp, cold, curl, drift, dress, electric, forgot, honest, hover, humid, leave, life, likeness, mountain, never, river, sample, send, shimmer, snack, spiral, splinter, station, stifle, stroke, summer, sunrise/sunset, switch, take

@oceangirl24 - arrangement, behead, bless, breathe, buffet, build, cast, committee, dangerous, discover, draft, dressing, flash, fossil, go, hilarious, information, jealous, marine, merchant, pipe, poison, quantity, reason, second, seminar, sport, steel, undertake, visit, wardrobe, workshop

@tsunderewatermelon - choke, clung, creep, dangle, flick, gaze, gulp, held, hit, lay, moved, poke, prove, scratch, sneak, sick, stare, swung, touch, walk, watch

@alpaca-clouds - annoying, breath, hair, soup, tension

@danceswithdarkspawn - danger, feather, moonlight, relax, touch

@aohendo - assess, hazard, manage, mitigate, risk

@frostedlemonwriter - gross, love, still, tense, yellow

-

Your Words: bloom, current, energy, focus, heat, press, spicy

As for tags... eh, just the seven of you who tagged me. Beyond that, I'll leave the usual open tag for anyone else who is interested in this.

Obvious NSFW warning for Azure by default. The remaining four words are scattered across the other chapters of Apricity, like usual...

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

[From Sapphire-12]

Annoying. Not being able to objectively or clearly describe anything was very annoying.

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

[From Sangria-13]

“Pretty much. As you probably guessed, the government knows of the mystic world. They tried to control and manage that piece of land, but Il Centro quickly stepped in and shut their attempts down.”

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

[From Midnight-14]

Mike took a deep breath and ran his eyes over the vampire’s form, critically assessing his features just as the man was so casually doing to him in turn.

Fucking hell, he really was an idiot. If the instability was related to Beau, then of course mentioning him ran the huge risk of worsening that instability. What a careless mistake.

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

[From Azure-11]

Bears, mountain lions, coyotes, and wolves among others made themselves known, adding themselves to the growing buzz.

Rather than the beaches he had hoped to see, instead lay an open field bathed in the bright moonlight.

They were seated in a circle around a fire by the base of giant cedar, speaking to one another, relaxed in a very intimate way they never were with anyone else. The scarlet aura cast by the leaves above and the cozy breeze brushing against everything like gentle feathers, created a warm and comforting current that swirled about them. Wanting to see what they were doing with the plants in hand, Beau carefully walked around the edge of the clearing.

He tried to move closer, but found himself frozen, held in place by a cool current swirling about him.

The tree line crept into the meadow until all earth, life, and sky was once again overtaken by the dark azure hollow.

The man before him now regarded Beau with relaxed posture, hooded eyes, and an alluring smile, a different sort of hunger painted across his face.

The azure light cast a cool tint onto already pale features, adding a sharp edge to what used to be warm gold eyes and blond hair, leaving behind harsh shadows across his face.

The man pushed off the tree and matched his pace, eyes darkening even further with each predatorial stride forward and each rousing gaze over his form. Beau was still a few yards away when his knees suddenly gave way and the man vanished from sight. 

Within seconds, familiar arms captured him from behind, pulling Beau beneath him, against a form he knew all too well...

Dark gold eyes were far more metallic now, a strange fusion resulting in bright electrum, an almost cool white with a bright yellow tint...

The mere idea only added more fuel into the fire already building deep within him...

'You taste positively divine, lovely boy'

Shocked by the hoarse voice deepened by desire, Beau gasped again, allowing the man to take advantage once more and deepen the kiss.

Beau’s heart pounded even harder as a very familiar lust burned through his body, making him let go and submit to the onslaught, like a puppet with its strings cut.

He let himself drift away, knowing that he would never return to the gentle, peaceful man and softer, quiet dreams from before.

He mustered the last fragments of his willpower and turned his head away, just as the last of his breath was about to slip away from him.

A fingertip traced a familiar pattern just below and soon, a tongue took its place, burning trails of fire across Beau's skin with every caress.

Beau felt a sharp sting near the base of his neck, just above the Mandala, and withstood the sudden flashes of arousal and desire coursing through his body.

Beau slowly opened his eyes and looked up only to meet blood-red eyes staring back at him, heavily dilated in arousal.

Goosebumps spread rapidly and shivers rippled across skin newly exposed to the cold air. It felt empty, alone - something was missing.

Lost within the maelstrom of pleasure, Beau jolted sharply with a single touch, arching his back at the series of sharp twin stings along his inner thighs...

The sensations were all too much and yet still not enough. His voice escaped him, echoing for the first time that night as he frantically moved, desperate to soothe the itch sizzling beneath the surface.

At the same time, cool fingers continued dancing across his skin, stroking along his sides and toying playfully and roughly with hardened peaks before caressing his shoulders and arms...

Wave after intoxicating wave of blazing arousal stacked atop each other, spiraling away into the azure haze with no end in sight...

He desperately ripped his clothes off, fumbled around, and quickly located a half-empty tube and various other items he’d carefully snuck into his room.

"Contemplating the meaning of life," Mike murmured, staring off mindlessly into space.

Mike spoke up. “Even if you aren’t going to prom, wasn’t there some book store or game store you mentioned wanting us to swing by while in the city?”

Oh, right. With his mind otherwise preoccupied, he almost forgot about that.

That suited Beau just fine. He’d help Angela, Athira, and the others with their dress shopping for some time, then head out and swing by a few game shops. And if the Port Angeles bookstore he and Mike were slated to visit tomorrow evening gave them any leads in Seattle to check out, they could swing by those places as well.

He was thankful for his father’s trust as the card would prove helpful in Seattle.

When Beau entered the store for the first time with Mike, he was shocked to discover that the store also doubled as an occult shop, with various metaphysical items sitting in rows behind stationary and crafting supplies.

After the past month… no, two months, since school started, why was Harper giving them information so easily when the others had blocked them?

[adonis-koo]

wicked • 10

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 13k

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Note: I said I wouldn’t post this until 11 was finished but apparently I’m a very impatient person x) and I’m now going to try and speed run writing chapter 11 lmao, anywayysss I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!!! it’s a little sad :\\

The sky was a rich azure blue, puffy white clouds high in the sky accenting it’s rich colors as they swirled together, the grass beneath your feet prickled and you had a few bug bites on your ankles but that didn’t stop you from shrieking in delight as you fumbled in your run. 

“Stop…!” You called out over your laugh at who was following behind you closely. 

“Don’t run away and I will!” He called back, laughing, escaping him as he chased you from behind. 

You had managed to climb up the hill, the top covered in moss that had felt considerably softer of your bare feet as you gasped for breaths before squealing out again at your waist being grabbed. 

“Seokjin stop!” You giggled out trying to squirm out of his grip as his nose pressed into the crook of your neck, tickling your skin as you felt your ears burn in a girlish shyness. 

“I got you know,” He whispered in your ear, his smile on your neck as he squeezed you tighter as you squirmed, “The more you resist the more I’ll squeeze.” 

Your grin was ear to ear as you finally let yourself relax back into his chest, grabbing his forearm that was wrapped around you as you looked up to see the handsome face of your lover, “Then I suppose I have no choice but to enjoy myself.” 

Seokjin’s lips curled into a smile as his hand delicately placed on your chin, lifting it towards him as he leaned down, pressing his lips onto yours. They tasted sweet with the leftover nectar of the fruit that had been served earlier.

Just the taste had you turning around in his grasp, moaning softly against his lips as your arms wrapped around his neck and twined into his hair, Seokjin’s hands immediately grabbed onto your waist, closing any possible distance between you two, one hand immediately cupping your jaw as he grabbed your jaw, opening it a little as he pushed his tongue between your lips. 

Fluster yet desperate at his tongue lathing against yours, spit intertwining and moans began to sing together in harmony from you both. 

Seokjin’s hand on your waist as he begun to grab at the fabric of your dress, breaking the kiss as a string of spit separated you both, breathlessly looking at one another before he let out a small, weak chuckle, “ You can’t do that to me darling.” 

“What?” You laughed a little, feeling a bit shy under his attention as you meekly looked up at him. 

Seokjin pressed his forehead against yours, his hand running over your throat, “Wear this? Kiss me like that? And then expect me to not want you?” He ushered softly, desire pooling in his eyes. 

His words made you even more flustered as your shoulders shrunk a little, a shy smile on your lips, “It’s what all the other flower workers wear Seokjin…” 

“Doesn’t make it any less scandalous in my eyes,” Seokjin flirted back, a smirk on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours making you laugh a little, “You can’t keep denying me my love.” He groaned softly as he closed his eyes as his hand brushed over your cheek. 

You shifted a little at his words, smile weakening a little though he didn’t see it, “...I’m just not ready yet.” You whispered out. 

“Will you ever?” Seokjin teased, as he let go of you, choosing to sit down as he ushered you to do the same. 

Something about his words pricked at your heart but you smiled anyways despite the self consciousness that began to weigh on you. You didn’t want to make him wait, it was just…You were nervous. 

Scared even.

Something about intimacy scared you horribly, you had heard the ladies in the court constantly giggling over the girls who had given up their virginity and the men who had left them due to their lack of propriety.

Fear distantly quelled in your chest at the idea, Seokin…wouldn’t do that to you would he? You looked at him, a smile gracing his lips as he sighed, as if admiring your beauty before he plucked a flower from the ground, carefully putting it in your hair.

A small meek smile tugged on your lips. No, no he definitely wouldn’t do that to you once you were ready to give yourself to him. 

Seokjin’s eyes raked over your body as he clacked his tongue, almost amused as he grabbed the hem of your dress, which had been sitting just below your knees but had now hiked above them from your seated position, “Once we’ve wedded you’ll have to start dressing accordingly y’know?” 

Their was a playful tone in his words as you raised a brow, “I am dressed accordingly,” You spoke back, words dripping in playfulness of their own, “This is considered traditional apparel here in Eunoia, I know it isn’t as…” You hummed as you looked out over the meadow, “Stuffy as other kingdom dressed but I appreciate it.” 

Seokjin chuckled at this as he leaned back on his hands, “Darling while you look stunning you’d be considered naked in Kimhae if anyone saw you right now.” 

You were aware he was right as you let out a wistful sigh, it was hard to compare the two truthfully, or at least in your opinion. This was one of your work dresses for when you helped clear old foliage from the throne room’s gardens. 

You did have dresses that were more formal and fit the standard of kingdoms outside your own, but well…You had grown up wearing more loose and free fitting things. You didn’t like the confinement of stuffy dresses from other kingdoms. 

And who had made shoulders such a scandalous sight anyways? It was always warm in Eunoia and therefore, it was necessary to dress in less to keep the heat at bay. You had been surprised when you first found out that apparently a fellow royal from Seokjin’s court had considered you a loose woman because he had seen not only your shoulders- but your collarbones as well from one of the dresses you wore during one of your visits. 

It was from then that you realized you’d have to dress more according to other kingdom’s standards during visitation. 

Still, it was a shock to find out that other nations had a very strict code on women not being allowed to expose more than their shoulders, or let alone their legs. Legs being exposed were completely off the table. 

It fascinated you and yet, you couldn’t help but feel bad for other women, surely it had to be hot wearing so many layers constantly? 

“Would it pain others so much to avert their eyes if my knees are so scandalous?” You finally toned your inner thoughts with a bit of sarcasm. 

“I’m afraid so, men wouldn’t want to, even if it might get them killed,” Seokjin sighed wistfully, “How about I get you a few dresses tailored?” 

Your nose wrinkled at this as you smiled, “No thank you,” You laughed, “My attire is just fine Seokjin! We’re in Eunoia so you shouldn’t worry about it.” 

You squeaked out at Seokjin grabbing your waist, pulling you into his lap as he pressed a flutter of kisses on your neck, “I will worry about it!” He proclaimed, pressing another kiss on your neck, “I don’t like others seeing what should be for my eyes only.” He whispered in your ear, only the slightest hair of jealousy could be detected. 

This made you laugh a little as you curved a brow, pulling away from him, “Nobody is looking at me anyway,” You tenderly cupped his cheeks with a soft smile, “You’ve seen the way my people look, they’re no different from me. You don't have to worry about my love.” 

You pecked his lips tenderly as he chased your lips but you teasingly pulled away, choosing to snuggle back up to him as you looked back over the meadow, bright pops of color could be seen even from here, cherry reds and mauve pinks and buttercup yellows all mixing together in an array of flowers. 

Seokjin wrapped his arms around you as he pressed another kiss to your head, the wind coolly blowing off the heat of the day in a gentle warmth of breeze as you enjoyed watching the puffy clouds move across the sky. 

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Seokjin spoke, a frown tugging on his lips as he nudged his nose against your chair. 

“Already?” You shifted a little in his grip as you looked up at him with a frown, “Is it for…?” 

Nervousness churned in your gut as Seokjin nodded with a frown, “Yes, we’re needed back at the War Room council. Penumbra’s king and prince will finally be there in the flesh.” He scoffed as he rolled his eyes, “This whole thing was put together for them and they hadn’t even showed up in months.” 

You frowned at his words, “...Perhaps there was something that kept them away?” 

“More like they’re testing everyone’s patience's,” Seokjin’s lip curled a little in anger, “Purely because they know they can.” 

You shifted in his grip as you asked, “What are they like…? The king and the prince?” 

Seokjin frowned as he shook his head, “...Almost indescribable truly, they carry a heavy presence, it’s like when they walk in a room, the air becomes colder, and they both share this same look of iciness. The Bloody King certainly holds his title for a reason, once in court, just to make a point he slit his own servants throat.” 

Just his words made you wince in disdain, Seokjin comfortingly squeezed you as he shook his head, “And they’ve taken to calling his son the Wicked Prince. For good reason from what I’ve heard.” 

“Will everything be okay Seokjin?” You asked, worry filtering your voice, “I…” Your lips trembled, “I don’t want to go through what we have the last five years again.” 

Seokjin’s eyes were filled with sadness as he spoke, “I’ll do everything in my power to stop it from happening again, my love. What counts is that they’re showing up this time, and if my hopes are correct, then surely they’ll be willing to start making an arrangement to officially put an end to any future wars.” 

You sighed sadly as you nodded. The last five years had been taxing on you, you couldn’t do it again, the countless tears you had cried and mourned for people you didn’t know, families that had been torn apart, lovers who died hand in hand. You had witnessed so much death and grief. 

You would do anything to keep that from happening again if you could. 

“Your royal highness!” A voice called out.

You jumped a little in your spot as you looked over the meadow, seeing a messenger flag to you both as he bowed, “Your and his highness’s have been requested in the war room!” 

You and Seokjin immediately exchanged glances as you got off his lap, “The war room?” You mumbled, you usually had no business being there as it was where your father discussed issues regarding…well more political affairs. 

Seokjin stood up as he offered a hand to you, pulling you up before you looped your arm around his, his eyes reassuring, “...I’m sure everything will be fine. They’re probably just discussing when we’ll leave tomorrow.” 

You smiled at him but worry continued to thrum in your chest. They had never requested you both in the past for something like that…you could only hope that perhaps, Seokjin was right.

Though it was a subtle change, autumn was definitely on the horizon as the night's warm air slowly began to drop into a slight chill every few nights. And seeing as it was Mabon tomorrow, you weren’t surprised by the change in weather though you did admit you weren’t used to the cold coming so early.

In Eunoia, Mabon was celebrated but it was due to the autumn equinox rather than a autumn harvest- as it was much warmer in Eunoia during these months, the warmth was what made you think of your old lover to begin with, after all, it was around this time a fateful two years ago that it had been announced that Penumbra had formally requested Eunoia’s presence at the War Room Council. 

You could vividly remember that day with Seokjin because it was the day it had been announced and tension had suddenly spiked through the entire castle and soon within the following months you would be told you were engaged to the Wicked Prince. 

It was difficult to believe it was all two years ago and now here you lived, married to the so-called Wicked man, living amongst his people, in his nation.

while Penumbra wasn’t the most colorful place, there was a type of feeling that often filled your chest during the colder, cloudier days. 

It was gothic, but in an enchanting way. 

“How do your hands feel Princess?” It was Taehyung’s voice that drew you from your thoughts where you stared out the cracked window, the chilled air occasionally blowing in which was what made you spiral in thought in the first place. 

You glanced down at the tray of water where your hands were placed, “Better, but they still sting when I take them out.” 

Your nose wrinkled at the inevitable as Taehyung prepared your balm, your hands were nothing short of a horrid sight still and dread filled your very being that as your hands healed, you could easily tell where the scarring would be most prominent. Just the thought had a knot forming in your chest as you took a breath to force the feeling to go away. 

“The good news is they’re healing quite fast,” Taehyung sat down on the side of your bed, a small smile on his lips, “You’ll be able to train soon enough.” 

“Sooner than later I hope.” You weakly smiled back before sighing, knowing what was to come as you lifted your hands from the water, droplets rippled in the water as the inflamed feeling began to take over in your hands again. 

It wasn’t as unbearable as it first had been a week ago, but anytime you accidentally brushed them against something or applied too much pressure on accident the burns would immediately flare up. A horrendously large blister had formed at the crease between your finger and the palm of your left hand, at that. 

It had developed earlier in the week and had since gone down a considerable amount much to your relief. Taehyung had been chastising you every day to make sure you didn’t use it because if it popped there would surely be an infection from a blister that big. 

It was now the size of a bronze coin, which for most was still big but it was considerably smaller now than it was before. And while your hands were certainly not healed, you were indeed amazed at how fast the human body could regenerate itself. 

A new layer of skin had slowly begun forming once more.

It gave you hope that you would be able to use your hands soon, you knew it would happen, but you would admit, it felt difficult somedays to truly believe you would. And even so, things would never be the same again. 

Taehyung was careful to dry your hands before twisting them gently to face palm up as he inspected them just as he did every night, “You’ll definitely be able to train within two weeks time.” 

It was just as he originally said though, three weeks at least. But you were thankful it was only three weeks and not longer, you had been trying to take care of them and be easy on them as much as you possibly could these days as thoughts of your duel with Seohyun loomed in the back of your mind. 

You hadn’t seen her in a long while and it made you nervous, especially now with your friendship with Jungkook which had only seemed to be growing these days. 

Taehyung carefully applied the balm before wrapping your hands, “Alright Princess, I’m all finished up here, try to rest as best you can and call for me if anything happens to your hands during the night.” 

He offered a small smile before bowing and exiting the room. 

You shifted in your bed as you sighed, pressing a wrinkle from your slip- Wheein had already come by earlier and changed you for bed, her mother hadn’t been feeling well and she had asked if she could get home early. 

Usually she slept in the maid's quarters in the castle but you understood and allowed her to go, thus leaving you by yourself the rest of the evening. 

Exhaustion began to seep into your body but a thrum of nervousness hadn’t allowed sleep to fully take over yet, you had been racking your brain on what to say tomorrow of the festival of Mabon.

You didn’t mind public speaking persay, but you’d be lying if you said the residents at the Capitol didn’t make you feel nervous. Your eyes slowly drifted to your nightstand, the letter sat half opened and you could see the delicate cursive writing.

That was right, you had forgotten to mention this whole thing to Jungkook, it made you want to groan as your eyes shut but the heaviness of them almost made you want to keep them shut. It had been so busy around the castle that you hardly had time to think about Yule. 

It was as if, he could read your mind, because as soon as your thoughts drifted to Jungkook, a swift knock sounded at your door before it opened revealing the familiar sight of your husband.

He paused however upon the sight of you half asleep, “...Did I wake you up?” He seemed somewhat hesitant to step further into the room. 

You offered a tired smile as you shook your head, “No, of course not, I am drowsy though.” You straightened up in your spot once more with a small yawn.

At this Jungkook shut the door behind him as he entered the room, his eyes a little tired but still sharp and inspecting, they lingered on your hands before he spoke, “Did Taehyung just change your bandages?” 

“Yes, he said that I should be able to start training again soon.” You nodded.

Jungkook nodded at this and he looked deep in thought as he took a seat on your bed just a respectable distance from you, “Good, I’ll talk with Taehyung to make sure you’ll be okay if we plan for next week. The duel is coming close and…” He seemed a bit hesitant before he sighed with a clack of his tongue, “I’d be lying if I said Seohyun isn’t a fierce opponent.”

This made a knot twist in your stomach as you looked away from him with a worried expression, “Is there no way to back out of this…?” 

Judging by the slight curl in Jungkook’s expression- as if the idea somewhat made him cringe, “If you don’t mind getting ruthlessly looked down upon. Deserting a duel is the quickest way to ruin your reputation- especially as a royal.” 

“Even worse than if I lost?” You shook your head with a pained expression, “Because it sounds as if I’m certain to lose. So much time has been wasted because of this…” You looked down at your hands in somewhat resentment of yourself. 

Jungkook was silent for a long moment, “With that attitude you certainly will,” He sighed before shrugging, “Coming from Penumbra has taught me one thing; there is always a chance of victory, even if it’s the slightest outcome. But you have to believe in that outcome to make it happen.” 

“Even with all the odds stacked against me?” You scoffed. 

“Even so,” Jungkook shrugged, “You losing is better than deserting the duel. It will show you at least had the courage to face her. And if anything there will always be a certain percentage of those who look down on her.”

You looked at him for a long moment before he sighed, running a hand through his hair messing it up from its original style, “There’s certain protocols that are supposed to be followed with dueling. One of them is only matching those who are of a similar skillset of one's own skill. For Seohyun to challenge you…” He let out a brief scoff as he shook his head, “It’s cowardly. Pathetic even, on her part, and nobody can truly deny that.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Regardless, we’ll work with what we can, for now you should just focus on tomorrow. It’s going to be an eventful day.” 

“Are you nervous?” You asked, a frown on your face. You had certainly been nervous, not just for the sake of everything you had worked hard to preserve but also for Jungkook, if his father was being targetted for assassination, then surely he’d be targetted as well, after all, he was the heir to the throne. 

Jungkook shrugged. 

Your lips parted with a frown, he looked like you had just asked him a mundane question, and this was certainly not mundane…! “This isn’t something to take so lightly Jungkook!” You immediately chastised.

Jungkook raised his brows, as if not expecting that from you before he snorted, as if he was almost amused to see you react that way, “It can’t be helped,” he casually defended himself, “This hasn’t been the first assassination attempt on my family and I promise you it certainly won’t be the last. As long as the Jeon’s remain in power, there will be people who seek the throne.” 

You glanced back down at your fingers as you fiddled with them, not feeling even close to better at his words now then you had before, in fact, it made you feel worse! 

“Jungkook,” You asked, making him hum, “Why do the Rosewood’s have such a bitter rivalry with the Jeon’s?” 

Jungkook blew a puff of breath from his mouth, “Well,” He drew a breath, “That’s a loaded question.” 

You sat up a little more eager much to his amusement as you replied, “Well, I don’t think I’m going to sleep well tonight, so I might as well learn a little bit about the political inhouse fighting.” 

And so you both spiraled into what you found to be a very interesting topic, because if one squinted enough, it could be equated to gossip of sorts. You had somehow ended up scooting over on the bed for Jungkook as he took a proper spot in bed next to you. 

He leaned up against the bed frame and one leg propped up as he sat next to you, your shoulders brushing as he began to recount his knowledge, “The Rosewood’s weren’t from our original nation of Seoul, they came from Prokofiev. It’s why many of them don’t share the physical traits of a Penumbrian. They were outcasted from their homelands and they traveled to Seoul where they socially climbed through trade work; they managed to survive the fall. Barely.” 

Jungkook sighed, “When Penumbra rose from it’s ashes and had decided to wage war on Kyoto, the ones who destroyed our homelands, it was the Rosewood’s that decided to take it upon themselves to band up and march to Prokofiev and take their own revenge….” Jungkook frowned as he scratched his cheek, as if in uncertainty, “My mother was from the Rosewood clan, though she had been born in Penumbria and carried it’s blood, they had their own personal knighthood that honored her and protected her. But after she passed…well, I suppose I should explain first that it was agreed to not give the throne to me before she passed.” 

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head. 

Jungkook frowned, “My mother had bore another child before me.” 

Your eyebrows shot up, “You have a sibling?” 

But hadn’t he previously said...?

“No,” Jungkook shook his head before he sighed, pressing his head against the headboard of the bed, “Well, biologically yes, I have a half brother. But no, he was technically a Rosewood, but I’ve never met him, and I don’t know what came of him. My mother had originally wedded trader among their class but her husband had died shortly after they had the child.”

“It wasn’t but a few years later that she and my father met. I was told that he was so madly in love with her, that he had made an agreement with the Rosewood’s for her son to take the throne, so long as they let her be his wife. After my mother’s death however, my father revoked the agreement that had been made. The Rosewood’s have had a bitter grudge against us since. I don’t know anything about him, other than that it was another son.” Jungkook explained.

“Well, what about your father, surely he would know what came of him?” You asked. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “He doesn’t, and even if he did. He certainly wouldn’t tell me, my father let go of the fact that my mother already had a child because he loved her. I don’t know what changed though, I don’t know why he revoked the agreement with them aside from when I was born…” He sighed, “The only ones who would know of his whereabouts, would be the Rosewood’s, or I assume so, at least.” 

“So the Rosewood’s are attempting to take the throne that was originally promised to them?” You hummed out as you thought about it before sighing, “I didn’t think the political affairs of Penumbra were so messy.” 

Jungkook puffed a breath at this, “It happens when a nation becomes wartorn.” 

“...Don’t you want to know who it is though…? Your brother?” You turned a little to look at Jungkook, his face was much closer to you then you realized. 

But his eyes, those icy blue eyes looked oddly warm under the candlelit room, his expression was as neutral as ever, but you had learned to look past it, paying attention to the brief flecks in his eyes that revealed how he felt. 

And right now you could see the apprehension in them before his lips quirked into a small frown, “It doesn’t matter though, does it? It wouldn’t change anything.” He shrugged, “He probably resents my existence.” 

“How can you know that for sure though?” You asked quietly, seeing that there was clearly some sort of…almost yearning in him that he refused to even acknowledge. 

“Some things are better left to the unknown, I think,” Jungkook replied, “And trying to find out anything of that sort would mean going into the territory of the Rosewood’s, it’d be better to let sleeping dogs lie.” 

You frowned at his words but said no more as Jungkook spoke, nothing more than a whisper, “Are you nervous for tomorrow?” 

“Is it that obvious?” 

A smile was shared between you both before Jungkook scoffed in amusement, “It’s radiating off you. I could see it from a mile away, you’ll do fine. After all, you were the one that helped the most during the fire. The people will appreciate your help.” 

This however made you frown as you stared down at your hands, “...I can only hope.” 

“You will.” Jungkook sounded much more confident in it then you did as he yawned, letting his legs drape off the side of the bed before standing up, “And if not I’m sure you’ll survive.” 

Your eyes cut into his, a pout tugging on your lips, “Y’know you aren’t a very sensitive man.”

Jungkook snorted, a smirk tugging on his lips, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to figure that out about me.” He seemed to be enjoying your expression as he hummed his eyes trailing off, “What’s this now?” His eyes falling to your nightstand before…!

“Hey! Jungkook,” You panicked as you fumbled out of bed, “Give it back!” 

Jungkook had snatched the letter off your nightstand with amusement, holding it above his hand as you struggled to reach it, “Don’t hurt yourself even further, princess.” He goaded in amusement at watching you futilely struggle. 

Jungkook had a boyish smile and playful mirth in his eyes as he watched your expression sour in frustration as you whined, ‘Give it back Jungkook! Don’t be mean!” 

“Answer the question and I will,” Jungkook leaned away from you as he held the letter higher, “What is it?” 

“Jungkook! Can you just give it back to me…!” You should’ve just put it in your drawer! What had even possessed you to keep it out in the open like this!? 

He obviously thought this was a game…! You could tell by his chuckle and the way his lips coiled in that annoying smirk that he thought your reaction was probably more entertaining than whatever was in the letter itself. 

As if to goad you further Jungkook turned his back to you making you glare up at his broad shoulders as he opened the letter.

You felt a flutter of nervousness coil in your chest as your arms around yourself. Truthfully you had intended to tell him about it eventually, you just hadn’t had the time and even when you did the thought never occurred.

But this…well this wasn’t exactly the way you wanted him to find out. Honestly you had even played around with the idea of just throwing the letter away and spending Yule in Penumbra, after all, this was your home now.

You had nothing to hide but...you watched Jungkook’s once playful expression slowly fade into confusion before a frown as he turned back around, “A Yule ball invitation from Kimhae…?” 

It was your turn to shy away from him as you glanced down at your fingers, “...I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it. But with everything that’s been going on, it just seems like we haven’t had the time.” 

It was silent for a long moment making you fumble over your words to try and fill the silence, “I- I mean, I know I should probably stay here for Yule and start to become acquainted with how the Holidays are celebrated here, and Kimhae is at least a four day’s ride away and we can’t afford to be away that long. Honestly, I don’t know what I was even thinking…” 

You trailed off as you shyly looked up at Jungkook, but he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were almost…Glaring? They bore down into the last line of the letter- Seokjin’s name. 

“It’s signed by the Prince himself…” Jungkook’s jaw clenched a little as he stared down at the signature. 

It was as if your words weren't even heard by him, him being too focused on the signature to even listen before he looked up at you, his expression looked almost opposite of it’s normal cold one. 

It looked almost fiery, “If Seokjin was inviting the court he would’ve sent one to me or my father…Which leads me to believe you’re both acquainted?”

It was a minor detail you thought would be best left out earlier…!

Acquainted ...you at first wanted to laugh was because the last time you had a full interaction with Seokjin, it was the morning Jungkook and his father arrived, when he was in your room...and you were...your face immediately turned ablaze at the memory as you meekly shrugged.

You couldn’t bear to look Jungkook in the eyes while thinking about that,  Jungkook’s brows immediately furrowed at the unnatural sight of you almost cowering at the topic. He stared at you for a long moment, his expression relaxing a little, as if now more in inspection as he asked, “Am I correct?” Jungkook stepped closer as he asked.

He was now right in front of you, even closer to you than before when you both had been sitting together, taking the chance you snatched the letter from him as you sighed, folding it once more as you placed it back on your nightstand. 

You tried to calm your rapidly beating heart, unsure of why you were even so nervous about this, it wasn’t as if you and Jungkook were romantically involved…But something about the idea made an undeniable flutter in your chest.

“Yes...we…” You were going to use his wording, but something stopped you, perhaps the sudden feeling of guilt at the idea of lying to him.

If you and Jungkook were going to be friends, it would be best to be honest with him, after all, he had been open to you about his previous relationship with Seohyun, why would you be worried about opening up to him about your previous lover as well?

You turned to face him, now a little more calm and reassured as you spoke softly, “Seokjin was...my lover. Our kingdoms were neighboring and had been on good terms since before the Great War…” 

“Lovers…?” Jungkook cocked his head back a little, his expression made you frown at being unable to read how he felt at the moment. He said the word as if it almost confused him. 

You offered a weak smile as you nodded, “Yes, had it not been for the Rite of Peace we had intended to get engaged and officially tie our countries together.” 

It was silent for a moment and your expression had become solemn, a fuzzy but distinct pain in your heart, how long had it even been? Six months now since you had even heard, let alone even seen Seokjin? 

Shaking your head you sat back down on the bed, “I promised myself when I first came here, that I wouldn’t try and reach out to him. Because things of that nature would never work and…” You let out a scoffed laugh as you crossed your arms, “It would only make me more miserable in the end.”

Your expression had become much sadder at the memories, “This is the first he’s sent anything to me since the wedding. Truthfully I never thought I’d hear from him again, let alone an invitation to the Yule Ball.” 

Jungkook’s eyes lingered for a moment at the letter on your nightstand before he spoke, “Well is that what you want?”...You weren’t sure what you expected from him but...well it certainly wasn’t this. 

He leaned against the wall, his expression stoic making it difficult to figure out what he was feeling at the moment as he crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows a little as if to emphasize his previous words. 

You had to do a double take at his words, somewhat surprised. You frowned as you took a moment to think about it, did you want to go? Your first thought however was of your family, you hadn’t spoken to your parents since your wedding, and truthfully you had been unsure if you’d ever see them again after that night.

But if you went to Kimhae for Yule, your parents would certainly be there. 

After a moment you sighed, “Truthfully, I don’t know what I want,” You admitted as you frowned a little, “If anything I’d like to see my family again for Yule, however that happens I don’t care.” 

Jungkook considered your words as he asked, “And they usually attend this? I assume.” 

You glanced back at him as you furrowed your brows, he was being rather analytical at the moment and you didn’t understand, he was even more removed from his emotions than normal as you shrugged, “Well yes, most monarchs show up in time to make merry with one another. But I’m sure my family would be willing to work something out with Penumbra…” 

Or at least you hoped…

“Well if you don’t know, then don’t make a decision right now,” Jungkook replied as he shrugged as he pushed off the wall as you tilted your head in confusion as his odd casualness, “We can discuss this in more detail when Yule is closer but as of we haven’t even celebrated Samhain yet. You don’t need to make a fuss over something so far away.” 

“It’s only been a few days since I’ve received the invitation!” You popped up somewhat indignantly, “Travel arrangements have to be made ahead of time if we do go. Excuse me if I’m taking the time to consider my options while I still can! And before you know it Samhain will have come and gone! Leave me be!” You whined making him chuckle a little as he shook his head. 

“Alright woman,” Jungkook sighed exasperatedly though somewhat amused, “If you want to spend your free time being anxious, who am I to stop you?” 

“Jungkook!” 

“What of your other burns? Have they healed?” Jungkook peered over your body as if he could see through your clothes- in which you definitely hoped he could not. 

You pulled the blanket over your thighs once more as you looked at him with brief suspicion before you sighed, “My arms are nearly fine but the one on my thigh is…” 

Your lips quivered a little as you sighed, “Taehyung said it’s still too early to know if it’ll scar.” 

The worst of it was your hands by far, but still, the notion that your body would now be stained with several scars had been a weight on your mind you had tried your best to not think about. 

Your eyes briefly lingered over the blanket where your legs laid beneath, at least they would be covered by your dresses. 

But upon thinking about it you let out a small breath, “Oh Wheein forgot to change the bandages on it,” You bit your lip with a sigh, that was right, Wheein always took care of your injuries on your thighs but she had been in such a rush this afternoon she had completely forgot. 

But well…one night surely couldn’t hurt could it? The burn had been completely fine until you started thinking about it, leading to a dull ache at the wound as you sighed. You felt it was silly to call for Taehyung and even so-

“Let me do it then.” 

“What!?” You leered back at his words as if he had said something offensive.

“It could get an infection if it doesn’t get changed,” Jungkook replied and you could tell just by his tone of voice that he was being purely logical about this, “And no offense Princess, but I don’t want to deal with you injured anymore than I already have too.” 

You gaped at him briefly before you shifted in your spot, suddenly feeling warm at just the idea of him seeing…! 

“You know I am your husband.” Jungkook stated plainly, “It’s not like we’d be doing anything wrong, even more so this is for your health.” 

Jungkook suddenly leaned in, a lithe smirk on his face, “I never thought you’d be so dirty minded princess.” 

You had to resist letting your hands curl into fists as you felt your entire face engulf in a heat that you couldn’t tell was from anger or embarrassment, perhaps both, “I…! I am not- I was not…! How dare you insinuate what I was thinking!” 

Jungkook chuckled at this as he pulled the blanket of your legs with a surprisingly soft gesture, “The look on your face told me everything I needed to know.”

You stared at him for a long moment, that stupid haughty look on his face that you had grown familiar with, but oddly enough, it seemed almost boyish under the warm candlelit room, “Well don’t just brood princess, sit off the edge.” Jungkook gestured to you.

He had already walked away to get the water basin and a clean cloth off your vanity where Taehyung had been keeping most of his medical supplies so he wouldn’t have to haul them up to you. 

It was at your insistence that you didn’t want to inconvenience him. 

You tried to calm down your heart as you reluctantly let your legs hang off the edge of the bed, feeling somewhat nervous. Jungkook was right of course though, this…this meant nothing, except him being kind enough to tend to you. 

Jungkook set down the large bowl before he poured water from the basin into it, a decent amount as he let the cloth submerge into it. He rolled up the sleeves of his top as he kneeled before you, taking one look up at you to see you were looking anywhere except at him. 

This made him snort, “Can I at least have some form of consent?” 

“Just get this over with please.” You sighed as you nodded, hesitantly making eye contact with him. There should be nothing scandalous about this, it was only your legs for godsake! But it wasn’t about your skin, it was about the vulnerability that came with it. 

Jungkook puffed a breath, his fingertips ghosting over the hem of your slip as if hesitant for nothing but a brief moment, “Seeing as you had a lover I doubt this is anything you aren’t unfamiliar with.” 

His words were enough of a distraction alone from his hands pulling up your slip, more and more of your skin being revealed until he sat the fabric up at the top of your thigh, “What does that have to do with anything?” 

His previous sentence made you frown, mainly due to the fact that his shoulders stiffened, only a little and his face became unreadable again before he scoffed a little, “You need help stringing together the meaning of a lover and me pushing up your skirt?” 

Your eyes sharpened a little as you tugged a little away from him, his touch now becoming less and less welcome than before, “Obviously not,” You gritted, “I’m asking you don’t assume my relations with someone else.” 

Jungkook scoffed at this, “All I’m saying is there’s no reason to act shy about it,” He rolled his eyes as he began to undone the wrapping, “You can drop the flustered shy princess act.” 

“I’m not acting!” You seethed now pulling away from him, “What is your problem?” 

Jungkook refused to look at you now and his chest puffed a little, “Nothing. Nothing is the problem.” He replied, almost stubbornly as if…he was trying to convince himself more than he was you. 

Tension seemed to sizzle for a long moment as his eyes met yours before slowly, it began to melt away as you reluctantly scooted back closer to him, “I’m not acting, I’m just…” You let your voice soften a little, “Nervous, I’m not used to this.” 

Your words lingered in the air and you knew Jungkook knew what you meant when you said ‘This’ as in ‘Us’. Jungkook was unfamiliar territory to you, you knew how to navigate many things in life, but this was not one of them. You didn’t want to mess it up. 

You and Jungkook had made a lot of progress in these last few weeks, you didn’t want to let it all crumble over something stupid. And admittedly yes, you were nervous about letting your guard down with him, letting him get to see more and more of you. 

“I know.” Jungkook finally sighed as he spoke soft, his fingers fiddling with the last of the tie before he began to unravel the wraps. 

The sight of the burn made you bite the inner side of your lower lip, it felt good letting it breath but the sight was still rather grisly, the skin around it was a little cracked from being dry and much of your skin there had still been yellow though bits of it had become a fleshy deep red from raw skin.

“It’s an ugly sight isn’t it?” You tried to swallow the knot that had formed in your throat, leaving your voice nothing louder than a whisper. 

The comfort of knowing the burns on your thighs would be hidden from the sight of others was now leaving you in a new form of vulnerability at Jungkook’s eyes taking it in, it was making you rapidly blink back tears. 

How could anybody love you when you looked like this, especially him? 

You hadn’t realized how big Jungkook’s hands were, and how calloused his palms were until he had kept hold of your thigh with a surprisingly tender grip, the coldness in his eyes melting as he inspected the wound, “A wound is a wound, they’re never a pretty sight.” 

But despite his words there was almost a certain tenderness in his voice, “You should stop devaluing yourself because of it.” Jungkook looked up at you. 

It was silent for a long moment, his hands still on your thigh having lifted it a little to look at it closer, but right now he was looking at you and you could feel his thumb rub over a patch of skin on your inner thigh soothingly. 

But something about the gesture had your insides churning and your body suddenly heating up, was it the way he was looking at you? The intimacy of the position? Or was it his thumb that seemed to travel just a little closer too…! 

Your thighs had involuntarily clenched and he seemed to realize this, if you hadn’t been flustered before you certainly were now! You couldn’t even look at him any further as you glanced out over to your doorway, studying its frame as if it was the most interesting thing you had seen all day. 

Jungkook had cleared his throat as he lowered your thigh back down and reached for the cloth in the bowl, squeezing out the water, there was now an awkwardness lingering in the air and neither of you dared to break it. 

What had you just thought of too….! There was an undeniable arousal now seeping uncomfortably through your body and you were trying your best to think of literally anything but the building wetness in your panties. 

How embarrassing! He was just being nice! And not only that but you didn’t see Jungkook that way! He was just- you were just friends and you were very content with that! Your inner monologue was grasping for straws to try and find a valid reason as to why you were suddenly so…! 

Jungkook seemed a bit more careful with how he touched you now and his expression had become unreadable once more as he rewrapped your bandages before tying it off. The moment he backed off you had quickly pushed your slip back down, hoping maybe the thin piece of fabric would be enough to persuade your body that you were definitely not attracted to Jungkook in that kind of way. 

It was not. 

But you’d definitely pretend it was.

“Thank you.” You mumbled out quietly, almost hesitantly pulling your legs back in bed as Jungkook nodded, standing up as his eyes lingered on the door though he seemed a bit lost on what he actually wanted to do, stay or go. 

“Try not to do anything to irritate it,” Jungkook cleared his throat once more, “...I should go to bed.” 

“You should.” You nodded.

But yours had stayed on each other for a moment longer and Jungkook hadn’t moved, it was silent for a long moment before he looked away from you with an almost awkward nod, “Goodnight.” 

You watched his back carefully as he exited the room, “Goodnight.” You whispered back, something quelling in your chest that felt suspiciously like disappointment. 

Your back collapsed down onto the bed as your head hit the pillow, staring at your ceiling as you reeled back from what had happened. Just what exactly did happen? 

“What the hell.” You whispered quietly, anxiousness somehow bubbling in your stronger than it had before he had shown up. 

To say the castle was busy, was an understatement, in fact, this was the busiest you had seen it since Litha if not even more so, the only difference was that you were in this rush as well. You had asked Wheein to wake you up extra earlier so you could help with the preparations for the festival. 

You had been dressed in a fine maroon gown but this was much different compared to other gowns you wore. You were dressed in fine layers of looser material and Wheein had explained that during the winter holidays the royals had a tendency to dress in their original garb from their predecessors Seoul. 

A Hanbok- that’s what she called it, or well, she had explained the Purge which had happened swiftly after the Great War, came to Penumbra and nearly all of Seoul’s traditions were lost in it’s havoc. The darkest hour of their nation where everything had been destroyed and then burned to the ground. 

Rather then a dress, it was actually in two pieces, your top having acted like a wrap shirt in a deep red color with satin hemming and your skirt the same color though it went all the way up to your ribs, and the long coat you wore sparkled in crystalline and the leaves long and big, flowing well past your hands but it had two long slits at each side of your body allowing two pieces to hang in the front and two in the back, giving some shape to your form.

She told you they had little to no designs left over to imagine what a traditional Hanbok originally looked like, and therefore they had to make some alterations to fill in the gaps of what it actually looked like, but you thought it was beautiful. It reminded you strangely enough of your old traditional Eunoian wear, though in an ironic sense. 

They couldn’t be more opposite in terms of style, Eunoian wear was much more revealing to many, where as this covered every inch of skin on your body. But it was so loose and kept you cool, and you could move around easier in it then any other dress you had ever worn. 

And you loved that feeling of unrestricted freedom in your clothing, and even moreso you loved that you could wear traditional  Penumbrian attire and still find remnants of home in it, you had wore yours with a certain sense of pride throughout the morning. 

To say you were nervous, was an understatement and that was partly why you had taken to helping with setting up the town square.

The decorations though, had become easily your favorite and you weren’t sure if it was because you had a good sense of direction or if it was because you were the Princess, but they had quickly let you take over what went where and how to style everything. 

“Just a little higher Princess.” A servant called out to you. 

You were currently on top of a ladder, trying to put up the other end of the beautiful red ribbon, you glared at the pole as you leaned further left away from the safety of the ladder as you finally hooked the string up on the highest sitting nail. 

What you hadn’t anticipated was the wobble of the ladder as you yelped out. You hadn’t hit the ground though, just your husband on the way down as he grunted, his reflexes immediately catching you. 

“O-oh, hi.” You said breathlessly. 

“Ugh, are you ever not getting yourself in trouble?” Jungkook complained but kept a steady hold on you, “Who let her up there?” His voice suddenly became icy as his eyes darted around at all the servants who had immediately paused their work at the sound of his voice. 

“I did. Don’t give them any grief about it and let them get back to their work,” You scoffed, but after a brief second you realized you were still grabbed onto his chest, which wasn’t the problem, it was that he was in his own traditional attire, his top a similar style like yours wrapped except his chest was exposed in a very long loose V due to the wrap of the shirt. 

“What- what are you doing here?” You fumbled a little taking a step back from him trying your best to not stare at the peep of open skin of his body, very toned underneath you might add if you weren’t trying your best to not stare. 

Jungkook stared at you a long second, as if trying to dissect what he just witnessed before he clacked his tongue, “Taking you back to the castle since you seem to enjoy sneaking out. A Princess shouldn’t be out here doing this.” 

“I don’t care about what a Princess shouldn’t be doing.” You replied flatly. 

“Yes I’ve gathered that much about you.” Jungkook huffed. 

“I’m being helpful!” You raised your voice just a little, “Besides I don’t want to spend the day in the castle until the festival, I’ll just be even more anxious and at least this way I’m doing something to preoccupy myself.” 

“You’re nervous about your speech?” Jungkook raised a brow, it was more of a statement then it was a question. 

“...Not exactly,” You sighed with a shrug, “I’ve given many speeches in Eunoia, It’s just…This isn’t home,” You mumbled, lowering your voice, “If I say the wrong thing surely the aristocrats will hate me, and seeing as I’m going to be working with them for the next year I don’t want to misstep.” 

It wasn’t just your speech though, it was the whole day, the looming threat of the Rosewood’s and their possible plan of assassination. How could anyone not be stressed about it? Jungkook being that exception of course. 

He puffed a breath, “You’ll do fine,” He left no room for debate, “The real reason I’m here is because my father requested us in the dining room.” 

“Your father?” You furrowed your brows, “Is this about…?” You trailed off, unsure of how safe it was to even be talking about it outside the walls of your bedroom. 

Jungkook shook his head, “No, he doesn’t need to speak to us personally, it’s just...think of it like a banquet of our own before the festival- which is only in a few hours,” He said pointedly, “It’s been a tradition of the court since the war ended.” 

You sighed as you looked back at the town square, you’d still prefer to be out with the people but…

“Let’s go.” Jungkook could see the conflict in your eyes and clearly decided to make the decision for you as you squeaked at his hand grabbing your waist, jostling you next to him as you wiggled in his grip.

“Jungkook! Let me go!” 

“You're my wife.” 

“That didn’t seem to matter before!” 

“Yes, say it louder,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, “Let’s make sure everyone in town stares at us as we depart.” 

This made your anger fizzle as your eyes somewhat cautiously darted towards the bustling town and Jungkook was right, you could see a few ladies snickering at you making you puff your cheeks. 

“Well what’s with that look?” Jungkook had the audacity to pretend like he didn’t know. 

“I’m wondering what I did in my past life to be stuck with you.” You blew a puff of air.

This made Jungkook’s chest puff a little, “Clearly be a saint, you could do much worse.” 

“How so!? Who could be worse than you?” You cried out. 

Jungkook looked as if he was debating something in his head before he spoke, “Seokjin.” 

“Ugh!” You groaned, stomping your foot as you yanked yourself from his grip, “Believe it or not he was actually twice the gentleman you are! And a lot more thoughtful and- and he had the decency to give me an arm when he wanted to walk with me, not just drag me everywhere like a puppy!” 

You wouldn’t deny that you were starting to get annoyed at the fact that you had thought being honest with Jungkook about Seokjin was a good idea, because now all he ever seemed to do was bring him up in moments where it was totally uncalled for! 

Truthfully you hadn’t actually taken that much offense to his words and neither had you meant it to heart with your own, but clearly Jungkook felt otherwise as he grabbed onto your upper arms, suddenly shoving you into the alleyway you had stood right beside. 

You let out a whimper at being pushed against the stone wall, a hand slamming against the wall right next to your head and Jungkook unbelievably close to you.

Those blue eyes could cut glass at the moment as he stared down at you, nearly nose to nose, “Maybe if you weren’t such a stubborn brat I wouldn’t have too. Tell me, was he really that much of a gentleman? Because I have very different memories of him.” 

You were trying to not let yourself get flustered at him being this close to you, one of his hands still locked against your waist, squeezing it hard enough that it would surely leave a bruise where his fingers were pressing into you. 

“He was nothing but!” You shot back, trying to not let his grip become distracting, “Seokjin was- he was nothing but tender and patient with me. The very opposite of you…!” 

He only proved your point further as Jungkook’s fingers dug further into your waist and his eyes looked almost engulfed in an icy rage, as if your words sent him into a spiral of anger, “Is that so? Should I just ship you back off to Kimhae then and let you live out your little fantasy with him? Be his wife instead? Since I’m clearly so unworthy of it.” 

Jungkook’s words were like venom, and truthfully you didn’t think the conversation had been nothing more than banter before he had pulled you off into the alleyway, but clearly something about this was bothering him, deeply. 

He released his grip on you, his eyes just as cold as the day you first met as your expression twisted in anger, “Don’t you dare put words in my mouth!” This whole fight was beyond stupid! And more than anything you were more pissed that he was trying to pin this situation as if you were somehow at fault here!  

“I don’t know what you know of Seokjin but seeing as I was going to marry him, obviously our perceptions of him are different!” You spat out, “And it’s unfair of you to do this to me,” You swallowed harshly as you pointed an accusing finger at him, trying to not let your eyes blur with tears of hurt, “I didn’t do this to you when I found you were engaged to Seohyun.” 

“That was different!” Jungkook hissed out. 

“It wasn’t!” You snapped back, “In fact it was even worse! Because I have to sit every day watching her- ugh! If you don’t want to hear about him then stop asking about it! I-” You sharply closed your mouth, your jaw clenched as you looked away from him, hurt seeping in your heart, “I told you because I thought I could trust you!” 

It was the hurt and betrayal in your eyes that had finally seemed to wake Jungkook from the unbridled rage he was in during that moment, just enough to realize what he had said, and that just as you told him, it was unfair. 

You closed your eyes, unable to help the tears that slowly slipped down your cheeks as you berated yourself, what were you even doing anymore? How could you expect to have a close relationship with Jungkook let alone…Just the thought made your lips quiver and more then anything, you felt stupid. 

Stupid to believe for even a second something like that was possible. It was painfully silent for a long moment aside from the soft noise of your weeping. Jungkook sighed at this, running a hand through his hair and his fingers twitching with an ache to reach out to you but he resisted, after all, he was the reason you were crying. 

“You’re right,” He finally relented, “It was unfair of me to do that, I don’t know what overcame me…” His words lingered with a bit of guilt because if he dug deep enough, he could weasel out a few possibilities as to what led to his words, ones he’d much rather not explore.

“It’s fine,” You ushered softly between your tears even though it clearly wasn’t, “You…you should go. I need a moment alone to regather myself.” 

Jungkook’s jaw clenched a little, as if in hope of staying with you and trying to fix this…Whatever this was. But it was clear in this moment he had done more damage then he could even hope to fix and with a somewhat defeated expression he hung his head as he nodded slowly before taking his leave. 

Somehow despite the lively banquet, Jungkook had found nearly everything dull, his hand resting on his chin bored as he looked out over the court making merry. Truthfully you didn’t have to attend, he had just been bored and was hoping you’d accompany him to liven up the event. 

But clearly he butchered that just the way he had nearly every other interaction with you, the memories made him nearly cringe as he wrinkled his nose, lifting the goblet of ale up to his lips as he took a large gulp, having settled on just getting drunk by himself and hoping for the best at the festival. 

Was his life possibly on the line? Yes. 

But did he care? Not particularly, especially not now after making you cry. In fact, he felt like he somewhat deserved an arrow in the head after the whole incident. Jungkook wasn’t sure what it was but ever since you had disclosed your lover to him. 

Just the thought of Seokjin made his blood boil. 

The thought of him holding your hand, grabbing your waist, your thighs while he…! Jungkook sharply inhaled, his grip tighter on his cup and his knuckles had gone nearly white as he tried to calm himself back down. 

Jungkook had never thought of himself as possessive before, but he was beginning to have doubts ever since you somehow snuck past his defense system and taken root deep into his very being. Jungkook took another gulp from his cup before lazily leaned back into his chair. 

It had to be the only explanation for the way he had been behaving and it seemed to start somewhere last night with his hands on your thigh and seeing an unmistakable look of raw desire in your eyes. 

He sucked in a harsh breath trying to ignore the arousal that was immediately shooting down to his cock which was beginning to harden at the memory, the same way it had the night before and no amount of stroking himself seemed to give any relief- until he finally caved in and let his thoughts drift to the one forbidden thing in his mind; you. 

But seeing the way you’d look away from him as if at war with yourself, as if he clearly weren’t good enough, it made Jungkook grit his teeth together. What was so great about Seokjin of Kimhae? The man had always been full of himself and had a puffed up ego, anytime he made an appearance at any War council meetings it always gave Jungkook a headache. 

Finding out that used to be your lover was like a blow to the chest. 

“Not to brag or anything but I’ve had my fair share of women,” 

Jungkook gritted his teeth even more at the annoying voice that played in his head outside the war council room, “The best was certainly my Princess though.”

Just the memory made Jungkook grunt, finally slamming the last of his ale down.

He was talking about you as if you were just some…! Ugh! And not only that but he was bragging about all the other women he had slept with, was that while he was with you!?

Jungkook’s gaze had turned into a glare at his untouched plate, at the time Jungkook hadn’t really cared and had minded his own business while all of the other Princes had consorted with one another after that meeting, it was how he had heard it in the first place. 

And he probably didn’t care at the time because it hadn’t been announced yet that he was engaged to you.

“Is everything alright Sire?” Taehyun, his personal servant, had been standing behind his chair the whole time watching his lord brood in that way he always did after an argument with you.

“I’m the epitome of fine.” Jungkook muttered, handing his goblet to Taehyun who refilled it before he took another large gulp.

“Is it about her?” Taehyun’s eyes were filled with pity for Jungkook as he slumped in his chair. 

“When is it not anymore?” Jungkook huffed, staring at his glass, “Women are a goddamn mystery to me Taehyun, heed my advice when I tell you this; stay a bachelor as long as you can.” 

Were you the problem here? No, by every account possible, but Jungkook just couldn’t seem to get himself together anymore anytime you were around and it was starting to really piss him off, you and those stupid soft doe like eyes and your pretty pout and your- ugh! Everything about you was annoying him the more he thought about it. 

He miserably took another loud swallow, downing half his drink as he wiped his mouth. Taehyun raised a brow before offering a weak smile, “Are you sure it’s about her and not yourself?” 

Taehyun had known better then to try and stick his nose in Jungkook’s business- usually just letting Jungkook air it all by himself as he usual did, but he had been watching from a distance now along with Wheein and well…the sight of what was once hate for one another, turning into these slow looks of pining across the table, and fits of yearning.

Taehyun never thought he’d say this about Jungkook but well- the man looked pitiful. 

Jungkook contemplated his words for a long moment before he snorted, “That’s a rather loaded question.” 

“One that- with all due respect- I think you should consider,” Taehyun replied, “For what it’s worth, she doesn’t look much better.” 

That was right, you were sitting all the way across the long banquet table that had been formed into a large square and right now you seemed miles away from his grasp, it made Jungkook’s hand involuntarily squeeze into a fist as his eyes burned into you. 

You hadn’t touched your meal yet, only leaned back with your hands folded together and a semi blank expression but Jungkook could see right past it, could see the way your lips had curled only a little in upset and no matter how long he looked at you it made his nostrils flare that you wouldn’t meet his gaze. 

His eyes sharply snapped back to his cup before he took another long drink from his cup, “Maybe it is me.” He sighed, “Hell if I know anymore.” 

Taehyun said no more, partly due to the fact that he wasn’t sure what words he could offer Jungkook that he’d actually listen to and partly to who had just approached them both, staring at Taehyun who sighed, pulling out a chair, “My lady.” He spoke dully as he pushed in Seohyun’s chair. 

She only looked at him before her eyes landed on Jungkook, a small smirk tugging on her lips, “You usually aren’t this much of a drinker.” 

Jungkook tried to ignore her for a long moment, feeling as if she spoke any longer and he’d surely get a headache, Seohyun had tried to visit his room a few times in the last couple of weeks but when it became very clear he was too busy, tending to you. Well, that was certainly one way to set her off. 

“It’s because of her isn’t it,” Seohyun scoffed, her eyes darkening as she stared at your dull figure, “You know if you’d just hear me out, you wouldn’t have to deal with her any longer?” 

Jungkook was admittedly beginning to feel a bit tipsy as he groaned softly, his legs spreading apart sloppily as he looked over at Seohyun, “Do you ever shut the hell up?” 

These damn women were about to give him a migraine. 

“I don’t,” Seohyun almost seemed to enjoy getting a raise out of him, “But if you want me too, then you’ll have to hear me out.” 

Jungkook downed the last half of his glass as he let out a long sigh, “And what if I don’t care?” He quipped, “Have you ever thought about that Seo? Maybe I don’t care about dealing with her? Maybe, just maybe, you were more of a goddamn headache then she ever has been.” 

“You don’t mean that.” Seohyun growled sharply. 

“Oh but I think I do.” Jungkook clacked his tongue as he peered inside his empty cup, liquor having always made him more relaxed and care a whole lot less about what he said, “And I think you choosing to sit next to me was a mistake on your behalf,” He grabbed his chest to hold down a belch, “I can forgive it but I’ll have to request you move so I don’t have to listen to your voice anymore.”

If Jungkook had looked closely, he could see the hurt and anger in her eyes as she stood up indignantly, “I’ll be expecting an apology when you come to your senses.” 

But quite frankly, Jungkook could give less of a damn right now, “You’ll be waiting a long time.” he called back before he sighed lifting his goblet again, “Taehyun?” 

It was silent for a moment before he sat up in his seat, “...Taehyun?” Confusion washed over him at the sight of Taehyun gone but the servant must’ve made a quick exit making him huff, he’d be back soon enough and hopefully another basin of alcohol because god knew he’d need it. 

Taehyun, had indeed made a quick exist, partly because he knew Jungkook needed a break on ale, otherwise he was definitely going to ruin Mabon- again. He sighed running a hand through his hair, unsure of why the Prince always had to ruin the holidays with drinking every year. 

“Taehyun.” 

He paused with a wince at the sound of Wheein’s voice, the older girl walking towards him with hell in her eyes as he sighed, “What the hell!” She hissed out, “What did he do!?” 

“I don’t know!” Taehyun replied frantically, “All I know is he came back to the castle ranting about being stupid and how difficult it was to talk with women and how he needed a drink! What happened?” 

Wheein crossed her arms, they both stood in front of the kitchen doors, other staff busy around them but it was typically a safe place from royal ears, “I don’t know exactly what happened,” She nibbled on her lower lip, “Just that the Princess went out to help decorate the town square and next thing I know she’s running into her room crying.” 

“Crying?” Taehyun frowned. 

“Yes,” Wheein sighed while shaking her head, “Apparently they got into an argument about…something, she wouldn’t tell me the details of what happened. Just that she was hurt and felt she was stupid in misplacing her trust. Ugh, it breaks my heart for her. I just…” She huffed, “I just wish they could be fully honest with one another!” 

Taehyung thought back to Jungkook’s words before he blew a puff of air, almost sounding like he was trying to not laugh, “Rest assured Jungkook has a very long ways to go before he’s ready for that-Ow!”

He rubbed the tender spot where Wheein smacked his arm, unappreciation in her eyes, “Did the Prince say what happened?” 

“No, only that I should definitely stay a bachelor- Ow! What was that for?” Taehyun complained, “They were his words, not my own. Me and the Prince hardly ever talk about the details when it comes to the Princess, he usually just goes on cryptic rants when it comes to her.”

It was true, Taehyun had been surprised when it first started, seeing the anger and frustration of Jungkook but as time went on it just somehow became apart of the routine. 

Wheein stared at him before shaking her head in distaste.

“What?” Taehyun frowned. 

“Men,” Wheein sighed, she had been worried about you ever since you came back and refused to tell her fully what had happened, she respected your privacy but at the same time she wanted to make sure you were fully okay, “They never cease to amaze me. Try to not let him drink anymore.” 

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Taehyun scoffed, “I’m going to mix the rest of the pitcher for water, if not for his sake then for my own. He’s really brooding tonight.” 

“Yes,” Wheein sighed, “it’s very obvious.” 

Wheein could only hope for your sake that the rest of this day would go easy on you, she hated seeing you like this. 

Eventually the banquet had moved from the castle to the town square where the height of the festival was being celebrated. You loved seeing all of the lanterns glow in warm hues of orange and red and so many faces of cheer and happiness. 

You only wished you could be truly enjoying it right now, but what had happened earlier in the day with Jungkook had completely taken all of the wind out of your sails and it had been plaguing you ever since. 

Watching as the performers smiled and cheered throughout their act you didn’t dare look at Jungkook though, you could feel his heavy stares on you all evening long and you simply didn’t have the energy to look back at him. 

But you wouldn’t deny the worry you felt at the times you’d catch him in your peripheral vision. He was downing a goblet of what you could only assume was liquor by the way his usual cold persona melted into something…else. 

It certainly wasn’t him. 

He seemed to have sobered up a bit by the time the festival had continued outside but that didn’t make you any less concerned, he usually wasn’t so reckless with how he was perceived by others. 

“So, what has my nephew done now?” Areum had taken a seat next to you, peering out over the crowd before she curiously looked at you. 

“He…” You paused, shifting in your seat, “He hasn’t done anything…” 

Areum snorted, “Yes and sky is clearly purple- what did he do? You both haven’t even tried to hide the upset.” 

You had been told, multiple times in fact that this was the case, and obviously it couldn’t be helped to a certain degree, you sighed looking around somewhat reluctantly, “We had an argument.” 

“Well that was the obvious part,” Areum heaved a sigh, “I meant what happened during your little lovers quarrel?” 

“We are not…!” You sat up in your chair sharply only to realize Areum had clearly said it that way out of curiosity, wanting to see your reaction, you subdued yourself as you looked away from her, “We had an argument about my ex-lover…” 

“Oh?” If Areum wasn’t invested before, she certainly was now and if not for your sake then clearly for the drama of it all, “An ex-lover you say? Who could possibly have had that luxury?” 

You felt your face burn a little, “It was Prince Seokjin of Kimhae.” 

“Ooh,” Areum’s face twisted a little as if in a wince of pain making you sit up a little straightener in confusion. 

“Well…it was stupid,” You sighed picking at your nails, “The whole thing was stupid, there isn’t much too it other then it was argument that didn’t even have a purpose. But well…” There had been one thing that had plagued your mind, “Jungkook mentioned knowing him but…Seokjin never mentioned it to me.” 

Areum sighed as she hummed, sinking into her chair, “Well they probably only know one another by extension from the end of the Five Year war, when Penumbra had decided to negotiate terms to end the war- Jungkook has always had a distaste for him though.” 

“I don’t understand…” You frowned. 

“You’d have to ask him yourself, I wasn’t around for most of it to know all the ends and outs,” Areum shrugged, “but to be fair your husband never consorted with any other royalty outside Penumbra, so even if you had another Prince lover I’m sure his reaction would be all the same.” 

You sighed, “I just don’t understand why he would say what he did or-” You shook your head, “I suppose it’s useless to try and make sense of the situation, it just hurt.” 

Yes, it stung, deep. 

It was difficult to forgive yourself for the stupidity of trusting him with something so sensitive to you, Seokjin himself wasn’t a sensitive topic anymore but it still hurt, watching it get thrown in your face. You should’ve known better than to tell him about Seokjin. 

Stupid. Your head continued to chastise you. 

Areum snorted at this, “Well Princess, I can give you a few reasons why he would.” 

This made you perk up but she only gave a minx like smile, “But don’t you enjoy the mystery of it? Things are often better kept that way.”

This made you deflate once more. This didn’t last long however when you noticed a stir in the crowd and the performers had just finished their last act giving a bow as everyone cheered for them. 

It was time. You felt a trickle of nervousness hit your system, the only good Jungkook had done for you today was certainly give you something to preoccupy your mind from having to give your speech about the market. 

But time only ever marched forward and so here you were, the presenter had greeted the crowd before signaling you over as you nervously fiddled with the hem of your sleeve before you stood up, a weak smile on your lips as you nodded your head in thanks. 

Standing at the forefront of the of the crowd you cleared your throat as your eyes darted from many faces in the crowd which store at you blankly, occasionally you could hear crow in the distance, you had rehearsed a lot of ways of to go about this but none of them seem to truly fit the occasion.

Your eyes finally stopped at the sight of an elder looking woman and a young girl, they looked as if they lived in one of the outer villages, their clothes much less in quality compared to many in the square, but something about their eyes seemed so bright, as if ready to hang onto your every word. 

It was their hopeful expressions that gave you the courage to speak. 

“Mabon is the harvest festival, where we come together and reap the rewards in which have been sown throughout the year, even in light and even in dark, the wheel never stops turning and that is something I’ve always been in awe at,” You paused for a moment, trying to not let the steely gazes overcome you, “Unfortunately, not all of those rewards could be celebrated today after the market was burned down in the fire nothing more then a few weeks ago.” 

 A more somber tone set in the air as you frowned, “This will lead to many setbacks in the coming of winter and the possible seed of worry is valid to anyone who may feel this way, after many lives were lost and so many homes and businesses were destroyed, it almost feels wrong to celebrate today.”

“To all of those who survived the fire, you are right to mourn and even moreso tomorrow, for I unfortunately know of the tears you weep,” You sucked in a harsh breath as your eyes glanced down at your bandaged hands, “But perhaps today we should gather together and make merry one last time as the last light of the year sets and before darkness lulls the coldness forth. It’s with a great honor that I can announce to you all that while we fight through the slumber of winter together, we will continue to work and rebirth what once was, into something even greater.” 

“In my homeland, Eunoia, we have a celebration known as the Rebirth of Life, in which in the deep slumber of Winter when everything has died, we celebrate the new buds that will soon bloom for when all of life slowly awakes and is reborn. I hope to captivate this feeling as I direct the project of rebuilding the market. I know many of you are unsettled right now and many fear for what will come during these colder, longer months. But please have hope and hold it close to you and your loved ones, I hope to get to know many of you in the crowd as we work together to rebuild the market district into something even better and build our community closer than it ever was before.” 

You folded your hands together and the crowd shifted a little as if unsure, but the first to clap were the mother and daughter your eyes had caught, they clapped very excited and soon they were engulfed in all the noise as a shy smile tugged on your lips. 

Overcome with a certain humbleness, you knew it would be a long road ahead for you in building trust with Penumbra, but you were patient and willing to work for their loyalty. Kneeling down you bowed your head. 

A sharp hiss blew past you, narrowly right next to your left ear, hair blowing back causing you to fumble with a gasp, you hadn’t even fully grasped what had happened before the crowd suddenly cried with fear, people screaming and shoving through the crowd. You couldn’t fully stand upright before an arm suddenly grabbed you. 

Another bolt sent flying right where you stood not but a second ago and it stuck into the wooden pole behind you, chaos ensued as more people panicked and soon the entire crowd was trampling on one another as the royal family sprung into action.

Jungkook’s familiar touch had kept onto you, pulling you on the other side of him and Areum had already stood up from her spot, “Get the Princess somewhere safe! I need three guard squadrons to sweep the area, two search the ground, one sweep the top.” 

You were in too much shock to do anything but let Jungkook lead you away from the chaotic scene, your mind reeling from what just happened as you looked over your shoulder, two bolt arrows sticking out of wood. 

Everybody had assumed the assassination attempt was on Jungkook or the King. 

Your stomach twisted into a knot as you tried to keep your breath from heaving, but really, it had been for you. 

[sugarakis-p2]

All Knights and day must die ch12

Mothman Shigaraki is the new king, so much on his shoulders and wings. Nothing better than to use Ur (Aka Ur Name x reader) to relieve his stress as he plots to destroy the Order of the Azure rose.

Shigaraki hasn't pulled out all the stops yet to charm his little mate, but he's not worried, he is just getting started. He wants Ur to see how good of a mate he is, look how nice is with gross little children, look how beloved he is by the masses, look how he hasn't ripped off Maude or Lyra's heads. He is going to take good care of you and one day you will know he is all you need. Fucking Maude and Lyra scheming again. F/M

@lovingbadguys @balanceisrelative @nut-in-me-jojo

Warning: Possessive Mothman Shigaraki gritting his teeth and spending fluffy family time. Violence, knotting, blood, magic, slightly public sex.

Chapter 11 < previous

Chapter 12:

Shigaraki’s sweet little mate has fainted after three days of pure carnal bliss.

He had promised to take her to see her family, but the aphrodisiac hadn’t worn off, and she kept wanting to keep going. Then she insisted on more, whispering dirty things in his ear, telling him her Nii-chan needs to breed her good. He gave in because it was a dream come true. He can’t hold back when his mate demands it.

After three days of waking, mating, eating, mating, aftercare, Ur was so worn out she fainted. You couldn’t even stay awake during the bath. He had cleaned you, bundled you like his cherished baby, carrying you to the nest where he watched you rest for a moment. He regarded your beautiful face and scars. He should have met with Master a while ago. He wants to do this himself, but he needs the Master’s power. He needs to make things better for his mate.

He does not like to think of Lyra’s accusations, but some might have had been valid. You had promised never to run if he saves your family. Would you still consider it 'saving' if Maude disappeared into dust and ash? The rage is boiling in him again, crawling under his skin making him itch. Their are too many voices in your ear. He looks in the piles for the potion he used to take to help him sleep.

You are under deeply, but he wants to be sure. He loves you too much to allow Master to touch you while awake. You groaned a little but swallowed the small dose. He kissed you as he lifted you and took you with him to see Master.

“Tomura, have you killed your mate?” Master asked.

“No. I have had some setbacks and ask for help,” Shigaraki mumbles. Master is touching you; he hates it, how he hates it so. It’s making him anxious enough to scratch his neck.

“Yes, Kurogiri has informed me. Your mate has been a real boon in cementing your status. I will help. Awww, what a pretty thing. First off, someone has used blood magic on her. Very subtle, good work. It must have been someone from the Order. It is probably the reason why you are having trouble conceiving. Here,” Master says, running a crystal across your belly. He hands it to Tomura, “Run this across the belly of another woman. The other woman you choose will not be able to conceive, but with how busy you have been with your mate, you two should have little grub on the way, soon."

Tomura Shigaraki is grateful. Taking the crystal, he already has a person in mind. He will keep his mate to him one way or another. Master did amazing work. He gave Ur a magic eye. It was prettier and can be seen out of. You really did have a shiny moon in the inky black sky in your eye. You had a little white star in the left corner below your moon iris. The eye granted you one random eye-related magic daily.

"Don't let her see out of it until she has had time to adjust. Keep that patch on for a few more days," Master instructs, drawing a symbol on the inner fabric of the eye patch.

Shigaraki doesn’t really care about it being magical. He didn’t care your eye didn’t look as pretty as before. You are still beautiful to him, but you cared. He wants you to be happy with him. Only he could do this for you. You stayed soundly asleep through the whole thing. You will never know you had met Master. Kurogiri sends you back to the nest.

“My sweet little mate. Mine,” he rasps, stroking your hair, removing it from your face gently with a single claw. You are already inevitably tied to him as he is to you. This news will be tempered with a child, and like all humans, you will continue to be his. When the time comes, you will be kept safe, far away from the harsh realities of the war to come.

Even though you are not awake, he coos and hums to you for comfort. He wants you to dream of him. Unable to escape his love even in your subconscious. He is excited to show you all the little things that will make you love him more than Maude. Love him so much that you won’t care if she disappears. He shoves on the gloves and clings to you. Since you have been in his nest, the nightmares are less frequent.

You wake up thirsty. Rolling from Shigaraki’s clutching grip, you crawl out of the nest, legs wobbly. You are halfway through the room when you hear a fearful roar ending in a whine.

“I’m here, just so thirsty,” you reassure him in a small exhausted voice. Shigaraki is brisk when he snatches you up, cradling you to him, carrying you like his baby as he takes you to fresh cool water. You are in his lap at the well as he holds the spout of the pitcher to your lips. Usually, you would find this treatment annoying, but today you don’t mind being treated like a legless pet.

You reach up and run your fingers through his sparse ruff. You promptly start to fret when you notice it’s a bleeding mess of scabs and open wounds. He purrs and nuzzles you as he takes you back to the nest where you find the salve for wounds and tenderly part his fur to heal his injuries. Hidden in his fur is a necklace. You want to look at it, but he touches your hand and flicks his antennae in the way that means not yet. His purring rumbles deeply as he gives you a suggestive side look, licking his lips.

“Are you not tired yet? I want to see my family today. I want to see how they are doing,” you say weakly. Why do you always feel you have to explain yourself? He gives you a wicked fanged grin and pulls you in for a kiss with his dry lips. Kissing you softly and sensually. His tongue dancing with yours as they entwine.

“Anything my mate wants,” he rumbles deeply. Surprising you and getting you wet between your legs. He’s never sexier than when he is doing as he promises. He pulls away, leaving you confused. Your brow wrinkles up. You want more, and he is suddenly taking it away. He chuckles at your expression, “But first, gifts.”

He lifts you to take you to another room.

“You’ve given me enough gifts,” you giggle at him. A part of you dreads what he thinks of as gifts. The other part is just giddy. He is not throwing you away because you ruined your face, “I’m so proud of you. You brought my family here for me and speak my language so well. You fought Starservant! You are too amazing. I adore you. I’ll never leave you.” You kiss him again; he freezes and stiffens against your kiss. Everything in him relaxes and growls, nipping at your lip.

“My mate. Mine. I’m proud. Wish I had seen females fight over me,” he grins, taking you to the room that was filled to the brim with gifts. He sets you down to explore your treasures. There are dresses and shoes. Slippers! You like the slippers; you should see if you can get the girls to make some. It’s the first time since not being carried that your feet are not freezing. Shigaraki is playing with the lace nightgown, getting ideas. You can tell Maude bought the clothes, perfume, and various other things. They are her taste, not yours.

You move to the stack of books. Maude didn’t buy this. Even though it is clear he had just bought boxes of them without looking at the titles, many are old textbooks with out-of-date known facts. one caught your eye. A blue dog-eared leather volume titled ‘The beasts we know: wondrous world.’ You yank it out, sending books tumbling over. In the cover of the inner binding is an inscription.

To my curious daughter:

I am with you always,

love mommy

It was yours. The book Abraham sold for your fare. It was the only thing your mother could give you. You clutched it to your chest, weeping like a child, when Shigaraki hovered, ready to decay what offended you. You look up at him, wrapping yourself around his waist.

“I know my sister bought most of this. She bought what she thought I needed, while you got me what I really wanted,” you groan, playing with his hair. It had gotten longer, and you like it too. He growls with satisfaction.

“We play later. Is time to see family,” he rasps. You look at him with suspicion, and he makes you regret it, “Why look? I want to make my mate happy. I like little human children.” It made you feel guilty you doubted him. You help him in his outfit, tying the straps and brushing up against his wings. He demands you wear something lacy despite how you explained to him that was only a thing for the nest. He pouted until you wore it over a simple dress. He shudders, delighted.

The mansion is huge. Standing outside, you can hear Adam and Maude fighting. Shigaraki knocks hard until one of the little ones opens the door. Although John is not so little anymore, the twelve-year-old gestures for you to come in. Shigaraki watches as you use strange hand motions to talk to John.

“They are fighting again. Adam is working in the crystal mines here. Says Maude needs to stop being a freeloader and provide. She doesn’t even watch over us,” John says with a strange lilt Shigaraki was having a hard time following. His words upset his mate, and he cannot have that. He snaps his fingers; it catches your attention.

“Tomorrow?” he asks. You shake your head, hooking your pinky in with his and guiding him further in. The fighting is still incomprehensible but louder and followed by breaking glass. He smells children, looking over to see them hiding behind a door. He barely recognizes them cleaned and in fresh clothes.

“It’s a family crisis. I need to intervene. Could you play with the kids?” you ask hesitatingly.

“Course come, little ones,” he beckons for them to come out of hiding. It wasn't until you said it was ok with your hands behind his back before they came out.

“Oldest to youngest. This is John, Mabel, Peter, Jan, and little Beth. John was in a cave-in at the mines. The concussion has left him hard of hearing,” You tell him, quickly leaving to keep Adam and Maude from killing each other.

He looks at the children and sighs when you are out of sight. The dead-eyed one is named Jan. He identifies her as the one he talked to so long ago. Jan has a tattered sock with wings she tries to hide from him.

“Want to play hunter and prey?” He asks them. It’s the kind of game he doesn’t need to talk or make a lot of physical contact with the children.

“What’s that?” The littlest one, Beth, asked.

You enter the kitchen, to Maude hurling another glass at Adam.

“Stupid whore! If it wasn’t for me, you would still be sucking Pa’s dick for protein!” Adam shouted.

“I don’t care! I work hard! I worked hard all my life, and I'm done. I'm still working! It’s called climbing the social ladder!”

“Fuck your ladder! Find a Mothman husband and get the fuck out! Useless cunt! You are nothing but a drunk skank that-” Adam was shouting when you wrapped your arms around his waist. He froze and looked down to see your face. You have never been the kind of family that hugs, so he was perplexed about how to react. You let him go.

“Please, stop fighting. We are the only family we have. If this is about money, I will see to it that you have more,” you say in a voice too small for you. Adam was the nicest of the three older brothers, but he was still a hard man.

“No. I will not be beholden to anyone, not even to you, little sister. How can I call myself a man if you keep me? I can make my own way,” he says gruffly.

“It’s about status. I will not spread my legs for anything less than the cream of the crop. But this fool wants to hand me over to Dabi! Dabi is not even from this hive, he has no status, and I will not go back to being treated like the queen of lowly whores,” Maude hisses.

“I’m sure Shigaraki and I can find you proper mate from the uppers,” you offer.

“Don’t bother with this one, baby sister. Maude is a fucking vampire. If you let her, she will drain all that is you and yours,” Adam says, turning to leave. Before he goes, Adam kisses two of his fingers and presses them to your forehead. Downright lovey-dovey for Adam.

You grab a broom and start sweeping up the glass while Maude makes a pot of tea. It was eerily silent while Maude pulled out her pipe and waited for the water to heat.

“Sparkle, sparkle, my precious gem. Come and tell your big sissy Maude all your woes,” she says.

“Sparkle, sparkle. I am fine, Maude. I just wanted to come and see how you and the children are doing,” you say. Taking the offered seat. Shigaraki burst in, agitated at the sight of Maude. He screeches to the children that Peter is now ‘it,’ and won’t be playing anymore. He is not about to let Maude have a private conversation with you.

"What did you mean climbing the social ladder?" you ask her.

"It's nothing. I'm learning and listening. That girl Toga is crazy, but I can handle crazy. She's been very useful. It's how I know Dabi would be a poor match for me," Maude says, pouring tea.

There was a lot of talk about shopping, farming, the school. He didn’t like it. The idea of humans getting smarter, but these will be his hive's humans, so he will literally live with it.

“Shigaraki tell her. It’s too ambitious. It’s too sudden for these rubes. Wait until everything settles down, Then start slow. Teach them how to wash their hands and die in battle more quietly,” Maude said. Shigaraki said nothing as he stared at Maude with seething hate.

“I can’t….Lyra might try to run or do something stupid if I wait too long. She is going to be a teacher there, I’m sure of it,” you start, whispering to Maude. Shigaraki growls, hissing about no secrets.

“All the more reason to shut it down. Humans already have too much change. Don’t be surprised if some ugly violence breaks out before becoming one big community. That member of the Order is trouble. The second someone hears that’s where she will be. It will get ugly,” Maude states. You have a sad little look in your eye but decided not to argue with Maude.

Shigaraki noticed. He decided that every time his mate is hurt by Maude, he will give it back to Maude tenfold. Then silence. All in all, it was better than meeting Dabi’s loud mates. The children were even quiet. Every now and then, they would walk in to hear what the conversation was about.

Jan asked a few questions, which he answered to the best of his ability. When it was time to leave, Shigaraki handed everyone a gold coin.

“Let me talk to Maude alone. It is my job to find her a mate,” Shigaraki said. You scrunch your face but go talk to the kids. They excitedly asked you about your fight, chattering all at once as they dragged you off.

“You’re not stupid enough to try to kill me in my own house, are you?” Maude asked. He is much faster than Maude could trace with her eyes. The violent yank of her hair forcing her head back is the only way she knew he was there. He loomed, threatening, so close to her exposed neck. His other hand wrapped his fingers around her throat.

He did enjoy the look of fear in Maude’s eyes. But he needs to make this quick.

“Lift your skirt,” he ordered breathily. His hot pants were so close to her lips. He had a dangerous hungry look in his crimson eyes. The fear in her eyes was replaced with a smug grin.

“Oh, that’s how it is. We have to make this quick unless you want my sister to see?” Maude teased, gathering up her skirts. He removed the hand on her throat, caressing her upper leg, and ran his claws over her hot front and abdomen. He grabs her dress and yanks it higher. Maude gasps.

Her gasp almost turns to a scream as her face twists in surprise, as something sharp cuts across her belly.

“Calm down. Scream, and I will go deeper,” he hissed. He is finally feeling the itch become tolerable. He wishes he could hear her scream and writhe in pain, “Such an ugly useless whore.”

He spits in her face and throws her to the floor on her belly. Any child she attempts to bring forth from her fouling of him will be turned into a Nomu or killed. Hopefully, her womb will shrivel up and fall out of her. Damn, he’s unexpectedly in a good mood.

“Damn fool. I know blood magic too. That won’t work while I’m pregnant. I will still have your little bastard,” She snarled after him. He shrugs and chuckles.

“Doesn’t matter as long as my mate can conceive. She will love me more,” he smirks.

“You really think that you can replace me in her heart. I’m all she has ever known. You’re a bigger buffoon than I thought,” Maude giggled. She giggled, but he saw fear and hate in her eyes.

“You were. Now she has me. We will see who wins. Your pussy and love are not as magical as you like to think. Now shut up. Don’t ruin my good mood,” He rasps. Walking away, leaving her to brood in her wrath. He wishes Ur wouldn’t be pissed if she saw what he just did because the words came out so smoothly.

“Come, little ones. Let’s spend the coin,” he says, gathering up the squealing girls. Beaming ear to ear. He called Kurogiri with your crystal. He called you creative for the crystal system, keening your praise. It made you feel special and plucked at your heart strings.

“But what about Maude?” you ask, worried about the thud you heard.

"She is drunk and unruly. Let's take the grubs until she is sober," he snarled. You know he does not like Maude. When he was with Maude, John said that Maude and Adam had horrid fights about Shigaraki’s death. About your life with him. His movements become too frantic to read. They are worried the adults will leave them behind. You stopped looking at his hands and calmed him.

“I know things have been very hard, but things are different now. We are family, and we stick together. We no longer must claw our way to the top of the pile of bodies. I promise you, no matter what, I will be here for you,” You tell them. Now Shigaraki came in here and was sweeping them all off their feet. Your heart beats a little harder against your chest at that sight.

Shigaraki guides you to hell, the shadowy man following along as the kids are excited. You watch him around the kids, and he seems to be doing well. In fact, he has that look in his eyes of pure joy. You arrive at the pit, he tells you it is the fighting arena. He seats you and the kids to watch the action.

“I fight tonight. A few Elites have challenged me for my mate,” he says, brushing your cheek gently. You whimper at his touch, worried for him, “No. No, tears now. I will win. I am the strongest.”

Loud chittering mixed in the air with the heavy taste of copper. The stench of bile mingled with Moth musk. You felt disgusted at becoming aroused by it. You close your eyes and breath it in deeply. You don’t like violence. Reminds you too much of the bad times, but this smells like Shigaraki when he wakes you up in the middle of the night to hump you to exhaustion.

You feel a hand and jerk out of some of your roughest but more pleasant memories. You look to see Lyra’s grim face. You are about to ask her what she’s doing here. When she sits next to you with Dabi.

“We are here because Shigaraki’s regular doctor is away. Also, if he dies, Dabi wants to challenge the winner, which means he gets to choose to have you as a mate,” Lyra said. You give her an intense look, then dart your eyes to the kids. Lyra looked but gave you a confused expression. Smack her with the back of your hand as she mouths what. Mabel and Jan give you a worried look.

"Don't worry. Shigaraki is the best fighter," you tell them.

“I already got you a gift Ur. I lured bakers and cooks here for you. Several are here,” Dabi said with a smirk.

“Let’s get the children some treats,” Lyra offers. The kids squeal ‘yes.’ But Shigaraki is starting. Everyone is cheering in rapture, surprising how popular he is since he hates everyone. But he seemed to love the attention. Lyra touches you and shouts, “Let him see you, then let’s slip away. We should talk!”

Oh gods, you have enough on your shoulders. Every conversation with Lyra that starts with ‘we should talk’ is always an argument about running away. You are not leaving, not your family, not your Shigaraki. You know now that challenges can be fought for you by others, but in a society where the weak don’t have rights, Shigaraki won’t let a challenge go. He waves to you and the kids. You have never seen them happy. But here they are smiling and animated over the carnage.

You can’t handle it, though. As much as you love seeing the kids smile, you can't handle what they are smiling about. The thought of Dabi being your mate or watching Shiggy rip someone apart. With Nomu and Lyra, you go to get the kids treats.

“A lot more humans now,” Lyra starts.

“Lyra, I’m in a mood. I don’t think Dabi would be a nice mate and,” you snit.

“He won’t be. Cruel. I believe that is what Shigaraki has in common with him. He will burn you for every mistake,” Lyra says matter of factly.

“I don’t want to run. My family is here, Lyra,” you say sternly. She stops and eyes you up and down.

“Unquestionably. After everything you did for them, I don’t see why you would. I will not try to talk you into that anymore. I think you are right. I would miss you if I left without you. I was considering that school your making,” Lyra said with her face turning bright red. She trailed off but you didn't need to hear the rest.

You scream and hug her. She’s a ridged little thing in your arms. Lyra pats you, mumbling about breathing. You let her go, feeling a little lighter. Shigaraki will win; you will have your best friend and family by your side. You drag her to the baked goods. Everyone steps aside, you want to wait in line instead of going to the fight, but the people are giving you looks that are making you antsy.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want something in return. The new humans will tell you that they are going to war. I want you to convince Shigaraki not to. With all the new blood and humans here, I’m sure you can convince him to open trade and negotiations with the Orders. They stay out of his territory, he stays out of theirs, open trade, everyone is happy,” Lyra reasons.

You still don’t believe Shigaraki wants to go to war, but you have never really asked, have you? Lyra has changed her tune slightly, making a little more sense. The truth is you don’t care. You have you and yours. Maude always taught you that is what really matters. But your family is bigger now. You have larger responsibilities. So far, you have been following Maude’s shadow.

Adam said Maude doesn’t know everything. You are starting to feel maybe it’s time to grow past your Master. Maude is otherworldly, but that world was small compared to what you have seen. You really want to keep Lyra. She keeps you grounded. She is skillful and smart. You can’t help it, you are so damn happy too. You will ask him about it, but the reality is if he wants to go to war with the Order, it will really depend on which one before you try to talk him out of it. War is inevitable since the Mothpeople did take a whole village from them.

“You will make the best teacher. Dabi and Shigaraki have become so good at articulation. I was hoping you can teach me their speech. Oh gods, Lyra. You can become the first human, Moth person teacher that teaches both sexes and species. You have to go down in the record books for that!” you shout. She turns a deep scarlet.

“I…..How has…..I …are you pregnant?” she asks. You are surprised, instantly suspicious of her, narrowing your eyes, “I told you to come to me if you needed more.” She brusquely said. The crowd seems to be pressing in too much, and it was annoying you.

“Oh, my gods Lyra. Look at you! Able to read expressions," you tease her.

“Only because you pointed it out. I need you; I will always need you,” she cried. Now you are stiff and confused. Lyra has never cried. NEVER. At least not without Dabi’s dick in her ass. Someone screamed Order cunt,  you reacted. Pulling her into and away from the danger. The Nomu knocked a human into the wall. It occurred to you these people were not looking at you strange, but Lyra. She wears her Orders robes often; it has never crossed your mind until now that she is hated outside of her personality.

“I love you, Lyra. Be my best friend forever. I need you more. You should wear something else from now on,” you said, hugging her. I felt amazing. No one ever touched or talked to each other in your family, and now you are starved for it. Lyra has tears running down and looks at the crumpled man, but you guide her back to your seats.

Beth is sleeping in Kurogiri's shadowy arms. Kids are so excited by the fights and sweets that they jump around with manic eyes. Lyra sits next to Kurogiri and whispers. She forces you to sit next to Dabi, who is focused on the fight. You have to admit, begrudgingly, that your Mothman was slaying. The audience stands and applauds every nasty thing he does; he had them in the palm of his dangerous hand. You are shamefully getting wet again. Is it because he has aggressively screwed you after every fight in the cave? Then you stiffen, realizing something for the first time.

“Does he do this all the time? Like when I am asleep?” you ask, regretting how much of a fool you sound. Dabi smiles, lighting up his lotus cigarette. You recognize the smell, and it reminds you of your village.

“Too often, princess. Do you like my gift? The kids love it. If he dies, I will be a good mate,” he says, licking his lips, inhaling the blue lotus deeply. You grab the cigarette and inhale deeply too. Oh, this stuff is great for easing nerves. It tickles your chest and creates a lightheaded sensation.

“Sure. No doubt, but in the meantime, you are my brother. Firmly planted in the friend zone,” you say, handing the lotus back.

“Am I your Nii-chan?” He asks with a slight grin.

“Is that what it means?” you gasp, “That is so dirty…..I’m going to use it more!” you exclaim. Laughing while taking another hit. The blue lotus makes you feel light. Dabi chuckles. Your mate is slaughtering people. To distract yourself, you talk to Dabi, who is eager to respond with his spilt attention.

“Thank you for the baker’s Dabi,” you say, blushing. You feel too heated with everything. It’s almost overwhelming. He side glances and smirks.

“And cooks. That was me, too,” he says. Taking the cigarette and tasting you on it.

“Stop giving me that look. You’re not that cute,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Which means I am,” he retorts.

“Shut up!” you laugh.

“You and Shigaraki are alike. You’re just sweeter,” Dabi states.

“You would know,” you taunt. Nipples pebbling around the metal in your nipples, your thighs uncomfortably wet.

“Fuck, if Kurogiri wasn’t here, I would bend you and Lyra over this ledge,” he teases.

“That is extra dirty for a Nii-chan,” you say, giggling. You’re feeling silly as you watch your younger brothers and sisters cheer for your mate. Gobbling treats they have never tasted before in pure happy delight. Except for Beth, who was asleep, and you're thankful for that. She is too young for this sort of sick entertainment. But Shigaraki is trying.

Shigaraki currently ripped an elite’s arms off and was beating him to death with them before turning him to dust. He was gushing blood in several spots, claw marks streaking his body. The crowd is roaring his victory as Shigaraki basks in their praise. You cheer with the others; his red eyes catch yours, and he is grinning in pleasure. Everyone gathers their things to go see him in the healing nook.

He’s in such a good mood he doesn’t even Threaten Lyra’s life while she heals him. The little nook is just off the main promenade. It was made for healing the fighter that lived. The children are all chattering at once at him, bouncing off the walls. You were worried he would lose his patience, but he nodded, kissed his two fingers, and pressed it to their foreheads as Adam does.

He whispers something to Lyra; she turns bright red, waving her hand. He looks flushed and satisfied. He hands the kids another coin and sends everyone out but you. Lyra touches you, and you feel warm all over.

“He asked, and I know you would appreciate this since he does what he wants anyway,” she says, walking away with Dabi.

“Wait, will they be safe?” you ask as your brothers and sister run off with Kurogiri. Your head feels light, a gentle tingling at the back making you giggle.

“They will be fine. Have Kurogiri and Nomu. You have me here. Come here,” Shigaraki orders with a sly smile, pointing with a claw next to him. Old habits die hard with him. You look over his injuries with a frown of concern, and his smile widens. His hand is groping your ass. You laugh at his tickling touches., “What like about you. So kind and tender. Need you now.”

He breathes, pushing you against the wall. His mouth is demanding, claws wheedling their way under your clothes. You feel drunk, his feelers brushing over you as you kiss him back.

“Let’s go back to the nest,” you tell him. He shakes his head, pressing you harder against the wall, hiking your skirt up to enter your hot core. Nipping at your neck as his fingers find your clit, making you squirm and gasp.

“Wet for me now. Mate now,” he moans. Opening his pants, letting his perfect cock spring free. You cover him with your dress, feeling him twitch at your touch.

“In front of everyone?” you ask as he lifts you higher.

“Not in front of everyone. No care if see. Let them if they come in. Let’s make tiny Ur. Want a tiny Ur. You want to hide cock, hide it in you,” He rasps. He rubs his hard cock through your slick folds, your lower lips caressing him perfectly, kissing his cock tip.

Pushing the head of his bejeweled dick in you. The look in his fiery eyes makes you wet, his pale skin flushed. He aggressively forces himself past your drooling entrance. Groaning, he shoves himself cruelly past your resisting walls, working himself in, stretching you wide. It stings, but you take as much of him as you can. Wanting to scream, he pushes your mouth to his collarbone, fingers tangled in your hair.

Cooing encouragement and praise of how good you are at taking him. With unrestrained lust, he cages you to him, trying to make you one with him. His length is stirring every nerve in your warm wet walls. The friction of your heated skin makes his scent of warm citrus and pure masculine musk you want to drown in. He thrusts hard to fully sheathe himself in your warmth. Teasing his feral impulses that are already burning with desire for you.

He bucks his hips up into you, nipping at the tender, smooth flesh of your neck, moving to his eternal love bite. Proud that you are his, you whine about how it burns. He’s too big in his ear. He bottoms out, and his head pushes against your cervix with every wild hump. Trusting his strong arms to keep from dropping you. Tears trickle down your cheeks. He wants to lick at them. He gets away with kissing them.

It’s a pretty sight that makes him go wild, his sharp teeth clicking, resisting from biting you on his mark again. His plush wet fur rubbing over your clit sending little tingles of pleasure through you. You roughly grip the softest fur of his ruff and seal your lips over his chapped lips. The rough texture threatens to make you bleed. You don’t care as Shigaraki hums and bucks up his hips against yours wildly. Making you bounce up and down on his cock, a sting of pain at each bump of your cervix. Every breathy groan escaping from you plays at instincts.

“Mine. I will kill all others. Take knot first, cum on knot,” he rumbles deep and low. You are growing hotter and wetter. Shoving you down deeper, the base of his cock expanding and stretching you to your limits. He stops as your pussy grips him like a vice, preventing him from thrusting. Screaming into his flesh, cumming so hard your cunt milks him. Laughing in pure bliss. He has such a sweet mate that has taken his knot, letting him lightly tug. Your sweet little noises are driving him wild.

“Good mate. You like me. You take knot,” he coos, but you can’t hear him as you feel exhausted. Still pulsating and spasming, he thrusts into you, chasing his own orgasm. Your limp body bounces in rhythm with him as you clutch to him. Inhaling his sweet scent deeply. Even in your state, you are panting in unison. He slows, grinds, rotating his hips up until you moan in pleasure. His large cock glided over your slick walls perfectly.

“Ah, Shiggy,” you whimper weakly. He grinds the metal against your cervix painfully. You feel so sensitive you jerk and whine with each tug. Clinging to him as he pounds himself violently into your tightness. Your teeth and nails are digging into him. His blood is invading your senses, making you dizzy. He can feel you tightening and getting wetter around him.

“Mine,” he growls. He needs to inflate your cunt with his seed. Gripping at him with each pull. You clench, keeping me inside you, not wanting to let him go. You can feel he is already so close again. Thrusting and grinding against your g-spot with his thick cock, you feel so close again.

You moan, burying your face in his soft ruff. You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you as you both come undone at the same time. His teeth chatter as you pull pleasure from deep within him, draining him completely. Growling and hissing over the flapping buzz of his wings. He holds you close as he sits on the bench with you straddling him.

Grabbing swathes of cloth to clean you up with. He knows enough to know it is bad to drip cum on children while tucking them to bed. He is going to test to see if you are pregnant later. He had a few doubts needle at him, but he has seen how good you are with your little siblings, you will be a good mommy. Now he leans into his nature. Your tits will be full of milk, he will help you with that when his little grubs are not feeding. He will do anything to keep his sweet little mate.

You will start telling your childless friends, such as Lyra, that you can’t visit today since you must watch the babies. You won’t need advice from the whore woman. You will need your good mate. The one that has romanced and blood bound you to him for life, fucked you silly, and provides for your every need. He will be a better father than his ever was.

He looks at the blue nail of his hand. The spell has gotten a little darker. It is time he takes care of the family. He really doesn’t mind the children. Adam is resourceful, he doesn’t seem to like Maude, and takes care of the youngsters so he can live. Maude is is biggest obstacle. You can’t run while you are knotted to him, so he asks.

“Where is the letter? The one Maude sent,” he asks casually. Stroking your hair and kissing you. You are so drowsy, drunk on cock when he asks. All your walls are down.

“I don’t know where it is. Adam never gave it to me. Don’t worry; he will keep it safe. Adam is a good, loyal, reliable big brother,” you say. Eyes too heavy as he curses under his breath. He is raging in his mind. He doesn’t think you are lying. He could get rid of Maude, but without Adam you will insist you raise the little siblings since Maude is useless. It will ruin his plans. His good mood is dampened. But he will not let it hurt what he has already worked on.

He cleans you up and carries you around until he finds the little ones. His new favorite, Jan, has a new doll that looks exactly like him. They had chatted themselves out to the point they were little zombies with hoarse voices. He has Kurogiri send them home. Tucking them to bed with hugs and humming, except for John, who told him he was too big for that. With Jan, he had to pry her little arms off him.

A scream rips through the house. His mate is distraught. He is quick, ready to kill the threat. But you are weeping too hard, and he doesn’t sense a threat. You are pointing out to a pillar of smoke. Something was burning. Maude comes in smelling of alcohol, the hem of her dress muddy. She is quicker than Shigaraki, falling to her knees and holding his mate in a tight embrace, rocking her like an infant. It was his mistake; he wasn’t quick with human emotions and missed his opportunity.

“I told you humans are fickle base creatures. It will be ok. It will be, my precious gem. We will build something more useful in its place. Like a phoenix,” Maude cooed in her baby talk. It was hard for him to follow, but he knew manipulation when he heard it. He tried to grip and pull you away from Maude only to have his sweet mate rise and flare at him like a viper. He had become very attuned to murderous intent but was taken aback by where it was coming from.

“Don’t touch my sister. Don’t ever touch Maude, not ever!” You shouted at him, pushing him away. He let you out of surprise and amusement.

From the moment he had chosen his mate, you have always been sweet and dutiful. This new side of you made his heart flutter and his own rage flare. But Maude was there.

“No, no, precious gem, he just wanted to comfort you himself. Never have an outburst at your husband,” Maude chided. Oh, how he hated Maude. You swiftly looked apologetic. He wanted that, but not like this and not because of her.

“Mind own business,” he hissed viciously at Maude when he pulled you to him. You stood there limply in his arms, unresponsive. He would have preferred you hitting him than this. He didn’t smell blood, but maybe you are unhappy because of something physical. Maybe your eye is bothering you. He didn’t want you to know about your eye until later when he could savor your affection. He checks you over like a mother hen.

“Fine. Not my place to help your marriage. She’s upset because the school is burned down,” Maude said. Maude had a strange look in her eyes, a slight smile tugging at the corners. What was this bitch so happy about? He looks out to the pillar of smoke. Nodding, he gathers you up and calls for Kurogiri to take you back to the nest.

“It’s all my fault. I said Lyra would be a teacher in front of everyone, and they burned it down,” you wailed in the nest. He nudged at you, and you accepted his comfort. Thrusting your fingers in his hair and fur, stroking over him like a large pet cat. He rumbles purrs, knowing you enjoy this strange dynamic.

“I will build you another. A better one,” he rasped.

“No, you don’t understand. Not enough time,” you mumbled.

"Then make me understand,” he hissed. His red eyes are hard. You shake your head and kiss him. Shigaraki would never allow you to do anything that would keep Lyra here. To suggest Lyra might run would be a betrayal of your friendship, so you sulked. He quickly tries to ease your suffering in other ways.

Dabi flopped down with his mates that put out.

“Lyra, go feed my brother. I will be busy the rest of the night,” Dabi said. Diving in deeper to the giggling girls. Lyra sighs and goes to feed Shoto. Lyra wanted to tell you she did not find a nursery but a young man. Lyra was caught snooping. But instead of burning her like normal, he gave her the job of taking care of Shoto.

Lyra thought she would be able to get information from him. But it turned out he was more in the dark than she was. Originally, she thought it was because he was stupid, but it turns out he’s not slow; he is like her. Unable to read people well, and that left him at a disadvantage. Lyra plotted with the boy whose goal seemed to align with hers.

“Were you able to convince Shigaraki’s mate?” he asked politely. Lyra shakes her head.

“Ur is a sweet thing with her family tied up in this, her help will only extend so far. Plan B is in effect. She will get pregnant; I have encouraged it, and she wants it. When she is pregnant, the Order of the Light will have a real bargaining chip,” Lyra says.

“You have such little faith in the Order. Didn’t you say that Shigaraki is not the brightest candle?” he asks.

“He’s not that intelligent. Either is Ur, but that does not mean they are not dangerous. Shigaraki is highly adaptable. He rarely makes the same mistake twice, and it's not without calculation when he does. I have been here for years, and in a short time Ur has the masses licking her feet. She seems to know how to make people adore her. She reads them like a book and seems to always get them what they need. She tamed Shigaraki, for fuck's sake. That sister of hers trained her really well. Don’t think even Ur knows it. But if she decided to go to war, everyone would gladly throw themselves on the sword. Even me," Lyra states biting her lip in worry.

“You’re joking. They are not that special, are they?” He scrunched his face in brief doubt.

“They are dangerous. Extremely dangerous. It will be deadly if they decide to work together,” Lyra starts to cry, and Shoto stiffens in confusion.

“Are you ok?” he asks lightly. Lyra is not ok and never will be. She is worried what she is doing is worse than Maude, and Ur might never forgive her.

“No,” Lyra said flatly.

Chapter 13

[19thsentry-blog]

Worlds Not Our Own

Miraculous Ladybug Fanfic (Established Lukanette, Feluka Friendship)

Chapters

In The Shadows | Prelude | Chp 1 | Chp 2 | Chp 3 | Chp 4 | Chp 5 | Chp 6 | Chp 7 | Chp 8 | Chp 9 | Chp 10 | Chp 11 | Chp 12 | Chp 13 | Chp 14 | Epilogue | New Beat | Timeline

Prelude: Twilight (AO3 Link)  

It is now, standing in the pit made from the maw of the monster in his arms, that he can finally accept what has been happening to him these past few months without hating it. It is much like twilight, something that should signify an end, but for whatever reason, feels more like acceptance and rebirth than dawn ever did. He is changing, growing, expanding beyond his limits, and every minute is a new picture, all of his contradictions spilling out next to each other, shifting across the sky like one might mix paint. The same night never comes twice, and when he looks up, he sees thousands of stars, all the light from all the suns that feel like eyes in the sky, watching him to see what he'll do. 

When he calls himself Twilight, it is not a lie. He is the sun setting on the horizon, its last rays fanning across the sky, retreating only to come back the next day. He can't stop what's already been set in motion, and for once, he thinks surrendering to it might be the right thing to do. He may never see himself as Good, nor as a Hero, but he is different than what he was, and that is enough--it's going to have to be. For all that his heart is selfish, cruel, or contradictory, he is being drawn into a comforting blanket of rich azure where black once reigned, and being kind no longer seems like it might break him. He is all he shall ever be and ever was; he is Twilight, wrapped in opulent blues and greens and teals, and he is changing.

[holly-fixation]

Tainted Child: Chapter 11

Summary: Cloud, Claudia, and Sephiroth finally make it north. Now they ask their questions: What is Jenova's goal? Why didn't she act sooner? Why Cloud? Why Sephiroth? Why did she stop mako from boiling, instead of destroying the planet like she originally planned?

Based on this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien

Please enjoy!

Chapter 11: The North

It took days after parting from the Cetras to earn enough money for a ride from Junon, realizing that a charter from lower Junon may be more expensive, but Shinra abandoned that section of town to fend for itself, thus less security to avoid. Despite the lowered stress and need for stealth, every night cursed Sephiroth with the same dream and the same frustrating wake, emotional, angry, tearing, desperate, wanting, even including Cloud’s presence by his side with something to soothe him, be it water, or another pillow, or even his own sword to simply hold the hilt like a lightning rod to focus his emotions. The boy’s mother never saw him, never woke or reacted. If he was hopeful, he’d believe Cloud was some kind of messenger of his mother, tasked with caring for him until whatever she left for them in the north was completed. Though he never told anyone that final fact. 

They donnned old, black, hooded, torn cloaks they managed to purchase on their way out of Fort Condor before they entered lower Junon. The small village reeked of pollution, rotting fish and drowned mako flooding all their senses. They heard some locals complaining about Shinra’s lack of aid. Apparently fish populations dwindled with the increase in power production from the underwater mako reactor, along with certain species of fish dying without wounds, but Shinra did not care since the war with Wutai currently stood as their top priority. 

Wutai. His comrades, his duty, his friends. Sephiroth’s hand clenched as he forced his memories down. He’d go back for them, his friends, both of them. No matter what happened in the north, he won’t leave them there, trapped in endless battle with neither side having the power to push forward without him. He felt empty, desperate, and exposed. Though his exposure partially came from the lack of armor, his shoulders unequipped of their great silver pauldrons, and also free to any attack or simple touch. He periodically adjusted the cloak where his armor usually sat to just feel something there.

Cloud looked at the sky with eyes wide in amazement, observing the mighty cannon swiping across the opaque expanse of azure. He was quiet as he roamed over the supports and hardware required for the massive structure. It was nice, to see the boy acting his own age, taking interest in large machines as he heard most young boys often did, despite never having such a phase himself. However, after a moment of scanning passed, he suddenly shook his head and locked his eyes on the silver soldier.  

North. They needed the answers in the north for his own desperation and for the boy’s sanity. That child loved Sephiroth's eyes. The soldier actively avoided the boy’s eyes, sleeping outside the tent or even in a nearby tree after slaying monsters for gil, but no matter where he went, the boy followed a polite distance away when he inevitably woke from his comforting, teasing nightmare. 

Claudia led the group to a small store. Neither of the boys interrupted as she purchased more goods and asked for any charters in the area. The clerk wasted no time, interrupting Claudia as he lifted a phone and made a call. Every one of them tensed, at the ready to run at the first sign of danger, extremely mindful of what the clerk told the man on the other end, hoping to all the gods the clerk did not recognize them and coded the call for Shinra to arrive. 

Cloud tugged on Sephiroth’s cloak and practically dragged him to the myriad pictures and posters on the wall, talking about every detail he knew or recognized within like a little kid. He was far more childish than anything Sephiroth had seen him be before, but then it hit him. Cloud deliberately tried acting the way people expected a small child to, in order to make their charade work. To the clerk, they looked like brothers, the little one a chatterbox and the older one in his indifferent teen phase. Eventually, they heard the phone click and the clerk tell Claudia to wait a few moments, so Cloud kept stringing facts together, a distraction, an act. Sephiroth limited himself to nods, head shakes, and one word answers at best, hiding his voice to the best of his ability. 

A few moments passed before an old fishing captain with imperfect eyesight entered the store, instantly approaching Claudia at the desk. He wasted no time asking where they needed to go and spitting out the rules of his boat, not caring about ID or who they were. No nonsense. Perfect. He seemed frustrated at the prospect of the northern continent but already having the necessary gil lessened his annoyance. It was dawn. He claimed it would take about twelve hours to reach the Bone Village. If they didn’t make it before nightfall, they would have to drop anchor near Midgar. 

Claudia agreed immediately, only because the faster they left, the smaller the chances of docking. Gods help them if they didn’t make it tonight.  

“Claude, Seth,” She called the two boys by their aliases. “Come on, we’re leaving.” 

“Coming!” Cloud yelled happily as he again pulled Sephiroth behind him. Could he always act like this? On command? 

Fifteen minutes later, they were all on the charter, ready to go. Twelve hours remained before they stepped foot on the Northern Continent and awaited Cloud’s instruction on where to go next. 

* * * 

Cloud and Claudia did most of the talking with the captain throughout the trip. Sephiroth only answered questions when explicitly asked. However, unlike the small family, he did try to get some sleep on the small couch in the cabin before arrival. Perhaps the rocking of the vessel could aid his rest?

No such luck. The same awakening as on as land, even Cloud by his side with a bottle of water. He cursed himself. He guessed that was the end of his rest on this boat, and spent the last few hours staring at the water of the horizon. Even he had to accept the calming sensation which came with the blue sky connecting the moving water, the view honestly better than any sleep since meeting these two blondes.

Once off the boat, they finally stepped foot on northern soil. Sephiroth wasted no time, and once they were out of the captain’s earshot, he asked Cloud where they should be going. 

Cloud shook his head and answered softly, “More north.”

He sighed. Of course it wasn’t that easy.  

They headed to the Bone Village and crashed there for the night. The next morning, all three of them vowed to find Jenova. No more games, no more breaks, no stopping from here to wherever she was. 

They were given two options: breed a mountain Chocobo, which wasn’t really an option at all, or head through the Sleeping Forest. The guide seemed to be relaxed, claiming the forest was currently ‘awake’, whatever that meant, so travel itself was safe. However, monsters roamed the land so keeping themselves safe was a top priority! Obviously, this was a warning for the usual crowd that stopped here, not for a First Class SOLDIER and two genetically enhanced humans, so through the forest they went.

Something was off the moment they exited the maze of trees, dread sinking into their skin. There was some ancient structure inside the frozen valley, a lost city. It seemed to be within a large river, a few bridges surviving through the at least centuries of no use or maintenance, and large white trees sprouted from the inside of what looked like large shelf fungus. No location on this planet mimicked its foreboding elegance. It was also the only way to go. 

A useless question ran through Claudia’s mind: why weren’t there any archeologists here? Though if they felt the low hum of dread from this far away, gods only knew how sharply it increased when inside the empty walls. It took entering the city for Cloud to suddenly grab her leg. She didn’t feel any different, but he certainly did.

“Mother, I feel woozy again…” He spoke lowly with bleary eyes as he rocked his balance from side to side. 

Claudia wasted no time and lifted him up, holding his back as he rested his head on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Cloud…” She brushed a strand of his bangs out of his face before placing a soft kiss to his head, trying to soothe his pain. “Where do we go from here?”

He pointed to the path on their right. “Out of the city…”

Sephiroth moved ahead and followed Cloud’s direction. “I’ll protect you.” Until he’s okay. The silent half of that sentence moved through the air as easily as the spoken half. 

Claudia nodded. “Thank you.”

He nodded back. 

The longer they were in the city, the worse Cloud felt, yet he still directed them with his given thoughts, pressing his closed eyes against his mother’s collarbone in an attempt at comfort. But he needed Sephiroth north. She needed Sephiroth north. They ignored the forest of white trees as they walked the perimeter of the city, then left through one of the structures to a cave system within the cold mountains. 

They had two people from Nibelheim in their party. Even with Cloud’s ailment, they reached Icicle Inn in no time at all. Which was good, because they couldn’t risk any time in the resort town. Claudia left Cloud with Sephiroth and purchased a map as the two boys kept walking forward. They had food, they had water, and they hoped their magic could keep them warm as they all moved down the snow-filled track. 

They didn’t think about the distance they needed to trudge through until a blizzard struck, blocking both the setting sun and the stars of night. They should have waited outside the Inn, but Cloud so desperately pointed them forward, his ailment lessened but still present, that none of them considered the time they left. They needed a shelter, or even just a roof, to continue when the storm at least dwindled a bit. Thankfully, they ended up finding an old abandoned cave. Claudia kept them warm with fire materia, saying she’d take the first watch, but Sephiroth denied his sleep. 

Cloud needed more rest than he did, and if he slept again, he’d wake the boy. So instead, Claudia slept against the wall with her little boy in her lap, him using her legs as a pillow and two cloaks as blankets, Sephiroth’s and his own. Claudia kept the fire going until she completely lost consciousness, so Sephiroth carefully enabled his materia, his fire coating even the walls in small, warm flames against the cold stone. He donned his armor as they rested, preparing for the battles up this wretched snowscape and the powerful monsters they contained.

Even by morning, the blizzard still raged, but the white out of day gave them more confidence than the absolutely sealed darkness at night. They continued their journey, through more caves, more snow fields, and more monsters, until they reached the top of one of the mountains. The snow dwindled down to soft flurries and a perfectly white sky, so they looked down from a perfect bowl of solid mountains, only to realize where they were. 

The Northern Crater. They were at the Northern Crater. Where the Cetra confined Jenova. 

“Cloud,” Sephiroth called, and the boy turned up his tired but excited gaze. “Are you sure this is correct?”

Cloud nodded quickly and pointed, staring at the beautiful blue wind walls of shredded ice and materia. “She’s in the crater. At the center. Are you ready?”

What kind of question was that? It didn’t sound like the boy that led them this far. Of course he was ready. They made it here, and he needed to finish this, to finally get answers to all his questions. Though he didn’t voice any of this, both Strifes seemed to know. They made their final trek, through the blistering breeze of the crater, careful to follow the center of the black and gray stone paths. They spotted materia none of them even knew of in a few formations on the side of the paths, but they did not store any of it as they marched forward, entering one last dark cave before light stung their vision. 

Then they saw it. 

Perfectly blue walls of materia scraped the open skylight, the storm no longer blocking the sky blue majesty or its perfectly placed clouds. The stone floor bled up the materia like stalagmites, cascading up the protective walls, encasing some massive, ancient creature. But none of this mattered to the party. Red, vein-like vines reached from the ground in a circular maze, cocooning their bark around a large, bright turquoise crystal, which glowed mako green at the tips. The light of the sun shined off the reflective rock, obscuring all but the knowledge that something was inside it from their vision. 

Was this it? Was this Her?

Each one of them approached slowly, Sephiroth taking the lead and the family following behind. They moved delicately, carefully, mindful of even the slightest pebble under their shoes. Every moment grew more anxious than the last, their breath tense with each careful step. Finally faced with the possibility of seeing this planet destroying creature, they took no chances, except for Cloud’s unbelievable calm. They each scanned the enclosure from each sound resonating within, even if they recognized the echo as their own. No mistakes. No chances. No monsters. No creatures. But what is…?

Sephiroth saw beads of liquid silver run along the ground like raindrops down windows, attracted to the crystal like iron to a magnet. 

“Cloud?” The boy’s mother called with concern, the silver soldier scanning at the boy as a result.

The tips of Cloud’s dandelion hair dripped perfect mercury, taking the silver glow he gained from curing his village with them as they collected and swam to the crystal. “It’s okay,” He stated happily, his eyes wide as he followed their trails. Each strand of the his natural spikes grew more gold with the radiant yellow he was born with as the liquid left his body. “Look.” He gestured to their path, to their final destination, as the last drop of silver rolled away, chasing the others at the fastest speed. 

The mass of liquid collected in a perfectly vertical line along the center of the large crystal. For a moment, it stirred along the straight path, mixing and turning as if setting itself right, like fitting a wrench on a bolt. Once the liquid seemed satisfied, it grew large and cracked the crystal, a vicious turquoise glow claiming their sights, the brightness nearly blinding them as they heard more large cracks before each break’s volume lowered as well as their shine. The three of them all looked up, one worried, one ecstatic, and one praying to all the gods for what she would be.

The crystal shattered, shards and sand of broken stars twinkling as they moved in the light of the sun, but what floated out of the crystal wasn’t what they saw in Nibelheim. 

Not exactly.

There was no large heart, no umbilical cord, no severed wings, no external veins, no ‘extra’ limbs or connections or growths. The body that left the crystal looked completely, entirely, utterly human. Long silver hair framed her face, the same face as the reactor, complimenting her nearly pale smooth skin, both the same shades as the silver soldier. Unlike before, a floor length dress adorned her body, fitted to her hourglass curve from her collar to her knees, then flared loose at the bottom end to form a circle around her. Its pattern was like a flower, and a snake’s skin, all at once. Sharp, scale-like pedals faded from sharp purple to a pastel pink from her collar to the bottom, two individual scales covering her chest with an open V from her neck. The offset scales changed color each row, until they suddenly stopped at a calm caramel, which curved around the edge to the back to a delicately formed circular train tailing behind her. Though they did not see it, a rhombus of shear blackcurrant traced her back and connected the scales and petals. Two long sleeves grazed from her index, middle, and ring fingers with magenta before fading to white at the center of her biceps. 

She was radiant, regal, majestic, enchanting, otherworldly, angelic, her beauty undeniably stunning. She floated to the ground as gracefully as a rose petal through the glittery crystal shards, her eyes closed. 

Sephiroth watched every detail as intensely as a hawk, his mind clouded with want, the want to be trapped in her calming embrace. The desire. The need. The craving and desperation. He would be there, grabbing and pulling in a childish hug he prayed she’d return, but he wasn’t alone, and any time he realized that, the spell of his inner emotions wavered. 

Cloud stared with bated breath, his blue eyes wide with admiration. This was Her, this was The Great Mother, alive, in front of him. Through his awe, excitement coated his thoughts, every question silent as he saw her calm, peaceful body. 

The one step Claudia took boomed softly after the shattered windchimes of crystals dampened. She kept her son behind her, protecting him from impulsive behavior as well as analyzing everything this gorgeous creature did for any signs of inconsistency. 

The Great Mother. The Virus. The False Cetra. The Alien. The Shapeshifter. The Angel. The Calamity from the Sky. They were her. Every title, terrifying and awe inspiring, were all her: Jenova, JENOVA, J-E-N-O-V-A. 

Only after a moment of silent observation did her glowing eyes reveal themselves, a perfect mako green with snake-like ebony slits, as she settled her feet on the stone ground, standing before them like a statue with breath.  

It’s my mother. Mine. Sephiroth’s shocked thoughts swirled with every childhood dream of this moment. He tried to keep his face stone, his stance threatening and defensive. But by all the gods, the graze of a feather would break him right now, his body failing to hold his emotions and appearing in her arms without question. It’s my mother… his thoughts rang again, in a much smaller voice, an anxious child, fidgeting and terrified of every examination or training session or experiment coming next, who only wanted love and care in return, but received nothing but pain and solitude. 

He didn’t notice while stuck in his thoughts that she was staring directly at him until she blinked, a small smile curling the corners of her lips. 

She only stared silently for a moment, as did he, and the family, but when her mouth opened, they found themselves in awe of her cosmic voice, simultaneously human and astral, “I’m so glad you came.”

Her voice simultaneously locked their interest and freed them from their shocked trance. Now they stirred, reality setting in again. They needed to prove her words true, for even the slightest hint at a lie could spell disaster for the planet, and their party of three would have to take her down. They forced the Cetra’s warnings to the front of their minds, or at the very least, Claudia did. This creature couldn’t hide in Cloud's mind anymore, only handing them pieces of fragile information. She was here, standing in front of them. She had to answer. For all of the life on this planet, she’d better answer. 

She gave him a knowing smirk, every fiber of her being radiating unbelievable kindness, but also power. Raw, unfiltered and untapped power. She held her empty palms to them in a soft gesture of humility. “Ask your questions.” 

They didn’t expect her to be so open, their slight surprise offering silence in return. 

“Let me answer.” She was at least ten feet away, never trying to approach or threaten. She was only calm, and still.

Sephiroth stood frozen in his place, sudden hesitation flooding his mind. What if he asked the wrong question? What if she hated him for it? What if she really wanted to destroy the planet, despite no longer boiling mako? Did she really care for him, or was this another part of her plan? If she threatened this planet… would he have the will to fight back…?

Cloud’s questions were only related to his experiences, but to some extent, She always answered those, even when She was only a dream in the corner of his room. She openly told him what he needed to know. He knew what Her answers were like, so he wanted to give his mother and Her son the chance to speak first. He was perfectly content watching, absolutely captivated by her presence alone. Always. 

Claudia had prepared questions in the back of her mind since the moment she found her little boy standing on the path to Mount Nibel. She knew she had more than what currently claimed her mind. She originally had small questions, bit by bit growing to the larger picture and goals of this creature, but now she had large questions, with hopefully long answers, to both justify what this alien did to them and catch any potential lies against the true information of the Cetra. “Why us? Why me and Cloud?”

She took a calm breath, like she was preparing herself, before she answered, “I searched for escape every moment in that water. Shinra never released me, despite all their procedures with my body. When a storm caused a rockslide at the top of Mount Nibel, some walls sustained damage. I used the cracks and released my virus, as I did on the Cetra.” She didn’t deny it, her attack on the Ancients, each one of her audience surprised by that fact. She explained so many details in an almost inhuman way. “The people of your village abandoned the reactor before the storm, and I believe a robotic cleanup crew sealed the cracks within a few minutes. I pushed my virus through the rain to the first occupied home of the closest village.” Her mako eyes sharpened at the mother. “Your home, before you were born. The first person I reached, was your mother, Claudia.”

It tracked exactly what the Cetra told them. Claudia actively searched for any dissonance between her former knowledge and this new explanation.

“The rain diluted most of my virus, and my only option was infecting her unborn child, you, and hope you’d have the strength to find me.”

She was supposed to be Cloud, and she somehow pushed her fate on her little boy? Her jaw clenched as she winced, frustrated at both herself and this entire situation.

“But through various genetic adaptations with my virus, I could only give you strength and intelligence. Your bond to me all but dissolved. I knew this, so I only reached for you once.” She closed her eyes for one second before opening them again, the first display of emotion since she began. “You can imagine my surprise when your body fell ill, despite immunity to all illnesses on this planet. Your fever grew when I tried to communicate. And when you saw me for the first time, your terror was unmatched.” She exhaled, releasing a fist she didn’t seem to notice she clenched. “I did not try again.”

“Then what about Cloud?” Claudia interrupted, even though she knew the answer was already coming. If any of this was a lie, she needed a way to throw this creature out of her stories. She hoped the interruption would stagger her lies to reveal themselves. “You talked to him all the time.”

Her mako eyes slowly moved to the little boy in question, the little boy far too excited to see her despite every truth he learned. “Your son was a chance.” She smiled softly at him, and he seemed ready to pop as he reflected her expression perfectly with all but his eyes. “When you were pregnant, I did not try again. The attempt failed, as far as I was concerned. I didn’t know if he had any bond, let alone this strong of a bond, until the day he first called you ‘Mother’.”

“Why?” Sephiroth finally spoke, instantly gaining the angel’s eyes. He forced his nervous feelings down with a swallow. They had the same eyes. “Why ‘Mother’ specifically?” Since the moment he met the boy, that detail seemed superfluous, useless, too unnecessary. Connections, bonds, thoughts, he could justify his other behavior. He couldn’t justify the term. 

She gave him a sad smile, an emotion he barely recognized in her pulsing green eyes. “You.”

His mouth fell open as he barely whispered one word, “Me…?”

She inhaled peacefully and nodded. “Yes. You. Because every time you wished for comfort, you hoped for a ‘mother’. You never used another word, even in your deepest subconscious. You crave a mother.”

“Why do you know that?” Claudia questioned, and Sephiroth realized for a second that this would be their strategy: the soldier and the boy would ask questions of curiosity, and the mother could attack in an attempt to prove the truth. However, her son did not realize this, and gave her the most incredulous look at her intensity. “You never even showed up as his fever dream.”

Her eyes softly winced closed at a hidden memory. “I. Tried.” She stated in the harshest tone since awakening, yet somehow still calm, collected. Then she kept her gaze away from them all. “I feared the same fate as you, but I reached anyway. Because he needed me.” Her posture stiffened as she shot her glowing sight to the other mother. “I weave through your mind, even if I cannot bond with it.”

They all took a single step back at the intensity of her single step forward, and with Sephiroth locked as her target. 

Yet there was no anger in her voice, no frustration. Only sorrow. “Every time you asked silently for a mother I tried to give you warmth, or calm. But even when successful, your pain never mended. Sometimes it worsened. But I never stopped trying.”

Something cracked in Sephiroth, a connection snapping into place. “Did you make those dreams?” If she truly knew as much as she claimed, she needed no further explanation.

Her shoulders dropped. “Yes.”

“Why?” his voice cracked, frustrated and pained with cursed emotions. 

“I hoped one of them would last. I tried. And when I felt them fail, I told Cloud to help you.”

Cloud looked at Sephiroth and nodded to confirm her words.

Claudia instantly turned to Sephiroth. “What was in the dream?”

Instead, her own son answered while Sephiroth looked away. “A soft touch. A warm feeling of safety. And almost a hug.”

“A hug?” Claudia echoed at Cloud before turning to the older boy to gauge his reaction. “A hug?”

He tensed, blocking his eyes with his bangs and confirming the first lie. The first inconsistency. The first manipulation. 

The mother glared daggers at the Calamity. “You told me to stop hugging him.” 

Both boys shot up and looked for the response of the woman in front of them, stunned, dismayed. 

“You threatened me to never try again.” Finally, the creature made a mistake. Finally she had the proof she needed that this alien was just as malevolent as the day it landed on this planet.

She only looked down, barely breathing as delicate regret claimed her expression. “I wanted to be the one to hold my son. To comfort him in his moments of need.” She clenched her left hand into a fist and held it over her heart softly. “...I was selfish. I know. But I am also the only thing he has, and he didn’t even know it.”

They knew he thought his mother was dead, and Ifalna’s explanation of his experiment only worsened these facts. The question in his eyes radiated for an answer without a single spoken word.

“I am not your birth mother, but I did everything in my power to help you.” She gave them a moment to realize the implications before continuing, shocked and confused that she admitted the truth. “Your birth mother suffered from my cells while pregnant. She hated the reactions of her own body. After your birth, she lost her mind. She tried to kill herself.”

He gasped softly, painfully. Ifalna tried to protect him from those exact words, that exact phrase, when he asked at the fort. It lined up. It all lined up. 

“And when she couldn’t, she encased herself in crystal to hide from the world.”

Sephiroth looked down, deep dread settling in his chest. “...She abandoned me…?”

“But I fought for you,” the angel countered, “while she ran away. I watched every fall, and tried to lift you up while she slept her existence away. She is still alive. But she has never reached for you as I have. I hoped my healing, strength, and intelligence would protect you, as it protected them.” She gestured to the mother and son behind him, both who were vastly superior to anyone in their poor village. “I unlocked every last shred of enhanced ability to guard you from their tests. It was all I could do, trapped in water.” Her eyes turned away with regret. “Instead, they adjusted their experiments until my aid was inconsequential, and they made you the soldier you did not want to become.”

The impact of her words struck them all, each of the three silenced, and Sephiroth wanted nothing more than to finally reach her. She knew him. She knew things he didn’t tell anyone, yet she never used it against him. Every word of kindness brushed away a layer of fear in his mind. He took one step forward, towards the woman, towards his- 

Until one spoke up, a low voice, still searching for new lies. “...Why did you care in the first place…?”

“Mother!” Cloud yelled in bewilderment, glaring daggers at her for the question alone, and Sephiroth’s heart stung at the implication, his right hand gripping the leather straps of his uniform that crossed over his heart. 

“You wanted, to destroy our planet, right?” Claudia confirmed, gaining absolutely no response. “So why bother caring? Why change?”

She scanned each of them, silent thoughts and an arranged explanation nearly reflected in her eyes. “...If I escaped before Sephiroth’s birth, this planet would be dead. I did not care for any of your inhabitants, especially the Cetra. I only cared to fulfill my own desires.” Her gaze landed on the blonde mother. “Your birth did not change that. I did watch you. I understood your feelings, your pride from your superior speed in your games, your desire to aid your village, your ability to cure nearly any ailment with increased intelligence, your joy with your peers, your admiration of the boy’s father.”

Claudia jerked at the comment, she hadn’t thought about him in years. Cloud never asked, only caring about her, his ‘Mother’. She steeled herself, shoving her thoughts deep inside her. No matter how many of her own feelings were told back to her, this creature hadn’t answered the question. 

Cloud barely even noticed. He never cared about his father. He was perfectly content alone with his mother.

“You were ‘happy’.” The words left her mouth simply, but something about that final word seemed foriegn. “Sephiroth,” she watched his anxious gaze return, the first time she called his name, “you barely felt a fraction of any happiness. Your days were misery. Her childhood shined, and yours burned. You cried silently for help, hoping someone would save you.”

His body tightened at her truthful words, coiled and wound with painful scraps of memories. He wanted to turn away, but he needed this. He needed her.

She looked down at the palm her own hand. “I suppose I ‘empathized’ with it. That feeling.” Then she returned her gaze. “I didn’t enjoy seeing your pain. The Cetras’ pain I absolutely desired. You were different. I never felt that before. And when that child was born,” She gestured to Cloud, then to Claudia, “I felt her instincts change completely. She wanted to protect him, but it was far stronger than any other will I felt. I saw how she raised him, how she cared, how she put him before everything in her life, despite his bond to me. I felt that feeling in me for you, Sephiroth.”

His heart soared at her words, his eyes wide with joyful astonishment. She cares about me. She cares about me!

“I’m sorry I couldn’t raise you, my son. Can you forgive me?” She stretched a hand to him.

The child in him screamed at his suddenly frozen stance, screaming to run and finally embrace her, but when he opened his mouth to respond, Claudia grabbed his arm. He turned to her and saw the warning in her blue eyes. There was still much they didn’t know, so he painfully forced the child to the corner of his mind, trying to force any logic out of his brain yet falling to continued silence. He didn’t need to answer with words for Jenova to understand, seeing a knowing smile and nod once again.

“I want to raise you. That’s why I’m here before you, as…this.”

Cloud’s little voice perked up for his first question, “Did you become human for him?” 

She nodded. “I did. It’s why I came to the north. I needed a place without disturbance to rebuild my body.”

“Then why did you boil the mako at Nibelheim?” Claudia questioned before another fact hit her. “Better yet, why did you infect my village? How did you infect Tifa?”

She looked down at the stone for a moment, then answered. “Your son spent more time with her than anyone else in the village. I spread just a bit of his bond to her as a failsafe, if he couldn’t reach me that day. When you brought him back, I increased your emotions while her disease festered. You’re a healer. I knew you’d make the connection between the bond and myself, and I needed your reactions strong enough to do something about it. I pushed you both to your limits by showing your son my torture, and I hoped one of you would finally find me.”

“Then why did you make Cloud and Tifa follow me when I did go up the mountain?” She would have gladly killed this creature herself with her bare hands if she had to.

“Simple. Cloud didn’t want Tifa to die, and I am the only cure for my virus.” 

“...Why did you ask me to find you first?” Cloud’s soft voice rang like a tiny bell, absolutely shy in Her presence. 

“You and Tifa needed to make the trek for a cure. You wouldn’t damage my body,” She stated simply. “I had a choice. You made my torture a single moment less. Thank you.”

Claudia sneared. “What the hell was the point of changing his hair?” The silver glow in Cloud’s hair concerned her the moment she noticed it even though it was gone now.

She sighed, dropping a bit of her defense. “I thought Cloud could handle curing everyone. I was wrong. My virus won’t affect my son, but I didn’t account for feedback during the spell. Cloud was fine, but affected. The best I could do was concentrate all visual aspects into his hair, and let him know he was okay.” She closed each finger of her hand individually, like a slow grab. “Now, I took it back. I didn’t need it to crack open my crystal, but it was absolutely more useful than waiting until I awoke.”

She really planned for almost everything, didn’t she? Cloud raised his head as he looked at her, a silent gesture of thanks.

“...Why did you wait this long…?” the silver soldier’s voice faltered, gripping and tightening his uniform by pulling on the opening of his jacket, trying with everything he had to appease his anxiety..

She exhaled heavily, another hidden memory visible in her eyes. “I tried every moment of every day. When my plan worked, I could only communicate with Cloud. He’s ten years younger than you.” She explained truthfully. “I pushed every monster bonded to me on that mountain to protect him from any threats, but his loyalty to his mother is greater than his loyalty to me.”

The utter relief that suddenly flowed through Claudia’s veins was undeniable. Cloud was her son. This angel wasn’t trying to take him away; she even guaranteed his safety. 

“I did not risk anything until he was old enough to survive.” 

Now, Claudia believed her, believed the real truth of everything they’ve been through. She felt Cloud tug on her arm and she looked down at him. The knowing gaze he gave her in return had no scorn or mockery. No ‘I told you so’. She only saw utter happiness in his eyes.

No one spoke for a moment. No new details, no new questions, no new answers or comments, nothing about the events of the past few weeks. Her eyes moved between the three of them, scanning for the next possible question.

“I have one more…” Sephiroth spoke softly, forcing his eyes to meet the woman’s before him. He hesitated at the gaze in her mako green eyes before roughly swallowing. “Only one…” He made his voice work for the question he needed, the question plaguing him since the moment he learned she was alive, an answer to. “Do you really want me…? Do you…really care about me…?”

The smile that grazed her face made mist form in his eyes. She approached him slowly, giving him all the opportunity in the world to back out, to leave, to deny her, but he looked up at her without moving an inch. He felt her hand on his shoulder, a soft grip, a kind pull. 

“I love you, Sephiroth…”

He shattered. Every defense, every anxiety, hesitation, fear, concern, worry, shattered as easily as glass. He grabbed her and pulled her into a hug instantly, one hand on the back of her shoulder and the other across her along her ribs. She never wasted a single moment and wrapped him in her warm embrace. Safe. Warm. Comforting. Protected. He felt everything he always wanted, everything he prayed for, everything he needed the nights after examinations, where he curled up in a ball on his bed with his head in his knees to feel the slightest shred of touch he was always denied. Fresh tears rolled down each cheek and he hid his face in her shoulder, trying, even now, to hide any weakness. He felt her hand slowly pet soothing circles along the fabric of his back, turning his attention from his tears to his shallow breath. He needed to calm down. He needed to…but he was so happy, so relieved, finally loved by someone on this planet, even if they weren’t from this planet. His mother. His.

“It’s okay…” She spoke in a calm, sweet voice that only made him tighten his grip more because by all the gods did he always need this. She moved her hand from his back to run her fingers through his beautiful long hair, and he relished every delicate touch. “It’s okay…” 

He didn’t make any noise or move in the slightest, staying exactly where he needed to be. He wanted to return the phrase, but his voice stung from his silence. They stood in an embrace for so long, he forgot they weren’t alone, but he didn’t care. He loved this. He loved her. This warm feeling inside his body coaxed him to stay exactly where he was, like moving a muscle would trigger an avalanche and the moment would be lost forever. Too many years of his life cried out in joy in the back of his mind as more tears slowly leaked from his eyes.

They believed her. All three of them believed her.

It will take time. He’s not ready for the whole truth. He didn’t need to know of her boiling hatred of the Cetra, her unending desire to consume worlds, her need to travel the cosmos and weave within the stars. Soon, they will use this planet, then leave for the next.  

Right now, he cares for this rock, so she will too. But she will corrupt him in her loving embrace, no matter how long it takes. He is her son, and she will give him everything.  

Only when he felt her head rise did he finally move, loosening his desperate grip and looking at her face. But her eyes were on the sky. He turned and saw nothing, then he focused his hearing. Chopping. Chopping air, chopping blades. All four of them looked to the sky, and after a moment, a helicopter came into view, and plastered on its side was the bright red logo of the Shinra Electric Power Company.

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Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

Author's note: You almost believed it, didn’t you?

Please, if there is ANYTHING I did not answer from ANYONE’S perspective, Please leave it in the comments! I will answer them in the next/final chapter! We finally have answers!

New record! This is my longest chapter yet, at over 6,800 words!

Also, 10 gil to anyone who figures out what the dress is based on. Thanks for reading! (More notes in the tags)

[of-elves-and-mad-hatters]

"The Azure Sky" - Chapter 11

Masterlist 

Request Guidelines

Shadows to the Brightest Flame: Series

- The legacy of Lumia’s influence is scarred eternally into the lands of Elvendale. Burdened by a prophecy foretelling her demise and need for a successor, she watches for one capable of such power. Yet her enemies are working steadily to undo all she’s labored so long for, and it is millenia too late to make peace. 

Emily Jones, heir to Eimileen, is a bold girl dedicated to protecting Elvendale, but the world she has grown so fond of is not so black and white as it seems, and the titles of Guardian of Portal and Guardian of Light may hold darker legacies some ancient elves have worked tirelessly to hide

In conjunction with the extended version of the Guardian of Light prophecy I wrote previously

Basically a rewrite of all of the Lego Elves & Secrets of Elvendale storylines with an additional arc beyond the Season 4: Into the Shadows. There will be a varying degree of deviation from canon.

Technically a crossover with Lord of the Rings/Hobbit/Silmarillion in terms of worldbuidling, as I set Elvendale as being north of Middle-Earth, cause this is fanfic and I can. So there will be mentions of the Noldor, Sindar, Silvan, and some Tolkien characters, but they will be mostly background. Definitely not an issue if you aren’t familiar with the Middle-Earth fandom; everything will still be easy to understand.

Book 1: The Azure Sky

Grieving over the unexpected death of her grandmother, Emily Jones is accidentally trapped in another world. Befriending a few young elves in an attempt to find her way home, Emily discovers many secrets about her grandmother’s past, but for every truth she learns two more questions take its place, leaving her vulnerable to darker force inhabiting this realm. 

A rewrite of Unite the Magic

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 

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Chapter 11

Eimileen must have loved this place. 

The small, open-air market of Urisil is like something out of a painting, surreal in the way light shines down through the silk canopies, crystals and lanterns illuminating the stalls, the structures surrounded by trees.

Emily’s gaze is darting around, trying to absorb it all, a grin helplessly plastered on her face. She doesn’t even hear Naida’s voice at first; the water elf has to tap her on the shoulder. “Emily, are you sure this will be enough? Do you need anything else?”

She looks down at the small pile of clothes Naida’s about to pay for, absorbing the question. Enough? She’s relying on the water elf’s expertise for what the mountain weather will be like, only Emily isn’t an elf, and humans seem to be frail in comparison. 

“Another coat? Just to be on the safe side?” 

Naida nods, and the shopkeeper suggests a fur-lined one in a dark, muted blue. 

Emily reaches a hand absentmindedly to her amulet. It feels cold again, prickly with static. Unpleasant. 

An intense spark jolts her finger. She recoils. 

A rush of half-faded images, a memory, impress upon her mind. Her eight-year-old self trembling under a quilt on her grandmother’s couch, crying because there was a wailing thunderstorm that night and she hated the way the world looked when it was lit up by lightning. 

They illuminated the dark faces in the trees, the ones too melded with the night to see any other time. And she begged her grandmother to make them go away. 

Her grandmother smiled pityingly, and whispered that she was too old to be hunting spirits anymore, but not to worry, that the dark things were farther away than they appeared, and that there were barriers that kept them locked away. Because that’s how the light deals with darkness, by casting it far away. 

Of course there were the few who dealt with things by swallowing the shadows, but her grandmother told her never to pay them much mind. That you should just tell them white lies because they tended to be grumpy and might not otherwise help anyone with the darkness. 

Little Emily objected. Her parents said that lying was always wrong. 

Her grandmother only smiled gently, tucked a strand of hair behind the child’s ear. Whispered, “Sometimes the only way to love is to lie”. 

And lie, Eimileen most certainly did, only Emily isn’t sure she can see the love in that particular choice. How was concealing her own heritage, the world she’d grown up in and loved, necessary to love her human family? 

“Something on your mind?”

Emily’s eyes flicker over to Naida. “Nothing…everything. I don’t know,” and she shrugs her shoulders. 

“I did not mean to upset you.”

The human shakes her head. “You didn’t. Sometimes, I just feel overwhelmed, still.” She hesitates. “…and I guess it doesn’t help that this amulet continues to surprise me.” 

Naida frowns. “How so?”

“Just little things. Like feeling as though it were charged with static electricity. Like sparking an old memory of my grandmother that I had forgotten…” Emily shakes her head. “I don’t know. It drew me to this realm. It wanted me to come here. But somehow I have this feeling it doesn’t like me very much. Does that sound stupid? I mean, it’s an amulet, not a person.”

Naida reaches out, just grazing the stone with her fingertips. “It is an artifact of great power. I’d be surprised if it did not behave strangely.” She tilts her head, thoughtful. “It was given to you by Eimileen. It should be loyal to you, but perhaps it is not fully confident in its new owner. Sometimes trust must be earned.” She takes a deep breath then, as if washing away her contemplations. “Come. We need to be on our way if we are to still stop by the bakery and return to the others by nightfall.”

________________________________________

After regrouping that night, and a restful sleep, the five travelers began their trek up the mountain paths. They hike in single file; Aira leading with the map, Farran just over her shoulder, Emily securely in the middle of the entourage, and Naida and Azari bringing up the rear. 

The human pulls her cloak tighter over her shoulders, shivers. The spots of green grass along the path are tinged with frost; she can see her breath in the crisp air. The higher they climb, the sky shifts from lavender to a crystal clear blue, unmarred by cloud and occasionally broken by birds flying in the distance. 

Emily feels Naida’s eyes on her, and hears the water elf shout, “It’s time for a rest!”. 

Aira jerks her head back, confused until her gaze falls on the human girl. “The path widens just around the next bend. Plenty of space to set up camp.” Emily can barely hide her sigh of relief. 

The narrows path does end up widening suddenly into a clearing that had been intentionally carved into the side of the mountain. Out on the edge of outcropping, to their left, stands a dilapidated windmill. The sky is quickly dimming to dusk, and Azari builds a fire close to the face of the mountain. Emily drops to her knees, stretching out her hands to warm them. She nods in Aira’s direction,“So, how much farther to the next key?” 

Azari shrugs. 

Aira, overhearing, trills, “Just a few more miles!”

“And what are we looking for, exactly?” inquires Farran. 

The wind elf finally seats herself around the fire, spreading the map on the ground, and reads, 

“Under the wings of those who rule the skies

Buried in the dark with all they find precious

An ancient hold for a beast long dead

Forgotten by those who knew not the days of malice”

Farran’s eyes widen. “A dragon cave.”

Dragon? “Wait, do you mean like an actual fire-breathing dragon, or is that a metaphor for something?” Emily questions. 

“Well, not all dragons breathe fire, but yes,” Naida confirms, “The riddle clearly points to the actual lair of one of those creatures. One long deceased.”

Azari scrunches her face, “But what on earth does the line ‘Forgotten by those who knew not the days of malice’ mean?”

Aira frowns. “Maybe it’s referring to a melkorian dragon.”

Naida mirrors her frown. “Let’s hope not. Their treasure hoards are rumored to be cursed, inciting delirium in those who linger too long.”

Emily winces at the thought. “So, what’s the difference between a melkorian dragon and other dragons?”

“Dragons are native to these lands, present at the time of creation, and friends of the northernmost elves. Melkor, an evil and powerful spirit to the south, captured a dragon and transformed it. Twisted its mind and body into a weapon of war. Its descendants we call melkorian dragons. They range from apathetic to completely wicked. Devouring sentient peoples like cattle, and hoarding gold with a compulsive greed far outweighing the natural dragons’ appreciation for beautiful gems.

It’s easy to tell the two races apart. Melkorian dragons grow to be far larger, and more powerful. Unlike other dragons, who are colorful and shimmer in the light, the scales of melkorian dragons are dull and muted in hue. They dwell along our southern borders, a frequent threat to the cities there. Though some have claimed that in rare cases, elves have been able to befriend these drakes, and redeem their natures. 

The last time melkorian dragons came this far north was before elves had established permanent towns up here, just scattered settlements. A treasure hoard of their kind would be very ancient indeed, at least by our reckoning,” the water elf explains. 

Emily absorbs this, picking a croissant out of the bakery bag being passed around the campfire. She pulls the bread apart, only realizing how hungry she is once she takes a bite. “If the cave was made by a dragon, which can fly, how do we know if it’s even accessible on foot?”

“We don’t,” Aira chirps. “But don’t worry, I’ve invented dozens of different ways to get around the problem of flight!” 

Azari makes a nauseated expression. “Flight is a problem, all right. And something to be avoided, not solved.” 

“Nonsense! Once you get over your fear of plummeting to your death…”

“Aira, stop,” Naida cuts her off. “We’re about to go to sleep, and you’re going to give Azari nightmares over a hypothetical situation.” 

“Fine. But a few pegasi-sky-diving sessions would really do her a world of good.”

_________________________________

Emily opens her eyes. She blinks, slowly, the world around her seeming blurred. The air around her is heavy with fog; she can barely distinguish the forms of her sleeping friends around the remnants of their campfire. 

The mist is dark, but as she peers into the night, she sees even deeper, darker shapes in the distance. They’re indistinct, fluid, with glowing blue eyes. Shadows. 

Emily sits up, wary, pulling her legs to her chest. The shadows are whistling, a high-pitched almost-white noise that makes her ears ache. There are whispers, too, in her head. Overlapping, wispy phrases, aggressive, rambling on and on about mortals and the passageway. 

Electric blue lightning crackles through the fog. Emily’s amulet begins to glow, shining like the shadows’ eyes. It levitates, lifting itself from the girl’s chest until the chain bites into the back of her neck. 

It’s leading her.

Shaking with apprehension, Emily allows herself to be pulled to her feet. She stumbles forward, the heavy fog obscuring anything more than a couple yards ahead. She’s lead further up the narrow mountain trail, winding endlessly towards a sky she can’t see. 

At some point, she’s turned sharply to the left. The girl continues walking forward, but realizes the ground feels different, absent. She looks down to see a gaping chasm beneath her. 

Emily considers, for the first time, that this might be a dream.

As though air were as solid as stone, the girl is lead on. She trips when her feet meet rock again, scraping her shins on a jagged outcropping. There’s a rough-hewn path with deep gauges that perhaps could have been carved from talons, if it was ever possible for a creature to have claws as wide as a school bus. 

The rock is damp from the mist, and Emily ends up sliding down the tumultuous path. Now with a scratched-up arms to match her bloody legs, she barely has time to catch her breath before the amulet drags her forward again, and enters the mouth of a monstrous cave. 

The blue glow of the amulet is her only source of light, and even that is quickly swallowed up by the darkness. Every step she takes sends small, clinking objects scattering. Gold, gems, she can’t tell what kind of treasure she’s stumbling through, but the deeper she’s lead, the more her legs sink into the hoard. 

Emily’s standing knee-deep when the amulet stops. Glow softening, it drops back against her chest with a soft thud, the surface crackling with static electricity. As its light dims, another light, deeper in the cave, moves towards her. It grows rapidly in size as it approaches, a dark, shadowy shape forming in its center, evolving into a humanoid shape. 

Emily’s heart drops. It’s them, the presence she felt in the forest. She’s sure of it, even though a part of her mind reminds her that this could just be a dream, a nightmare. 

“Who are you?” she asks, trying to still the tremor in her voice. 

“Who?” the shadowy figure repeats, tilting its head. The voice is warped, but it sounds vaguely female. “Who I am never really mattered to your grandmother. She held her own assumptions as gospel. So why do you inquire? Or did she not warn her own descendant of the dangers of this realm?”

“She must have had her reasons,” Emily spits back, defensive. “And it’s too late for me to ask her now. But I can ask you why you’ve been stalking me, and how you’re somehow connected to her amulet.”

“It was a gift, and a foolish mistake.”

Emily lifts her hand, letting it hover over the jewel, feeling the sharp pricks of electricity jumping to her skin. “Is that why it hurts me? Because you regret giving my grandmother the amulet?”

“Because I made it, and Eimileen used it for something I never condoned. As long as its purpose is being abused, it will always try to find its way back to me.” The shadow’s voice grows in volume, the cave beginning to shake. “It may be yours, little half-blood, but don’t mistake ownership for loyalty. For your own sake, give the amulet to the guardian of the castle. She has sworn to safeguard it till I return to these lands.”

The shadowy figure vanishes into a wreath of blue and green light, as the ground opens up underneath Emily, crumbling away. She falls, jewels and coins pouring in after her. And far beneath, in the darkness, are hundreds of glowing blue eyes, waiting. 

_______________

A/N: I can't believe it's been two years since I've updated this story, and a full year since I shared a segment of this chapter as a WIP. I'm so sorry to have made everyone wait so long! Hopefully, now that I'm over the hurdle that was this clunky chapter, I can finish the Azure Sky this year? Crossing my fingers.

[theshy1sout]

Inseparable - Chapter 11

Tags: Not Rated, Slow Burn Fluff, Broppy, Trolls Mythology Au

Ao3 is here

Notes: Ok, so in the last chapter were some plot holes or more like understatements, but let me work on them later. There're many chapters before us, there will be a time for fixing them, but now, back to some fluff :3

________________________________________

It's time. Poppy is bouncing with excitement, the huge grin doesn't leave her fave. She's all happy. She's all one ticking bomb waiting to explode. 

- I'm scared now - Branch chuckles, watching as she's almost dancing. - What is this surprise? Is this something erupting from the ground or... How big is it?

The goddess giggles with genuine joy in her melody voice. She looks at him with sparks of thrill in her eyes.

- Bigger than you thought! - She beams. And then she reaches for the Staff. - Calm down, it would be great!

- I hope so - He throws, twisting his face. He hesitates to give her the Staff. - I know it’s ridiculous, but I'm really stressed, this is overwhelming, you don’t have to...

- Nah nah nah, shhh - She puts her finger on his mouth, making him freeze. She looks deep into his eyes, and says slowly with a calm, quiet voice: - It won't kill you, ok? It's a surprise. A gift. All you have to do is just follow me and watch. Easy?

The god blinks when her finger lets go of his lips. He takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes on her.

- Easy - He breathes out, nodding slightly. 

She smirks at him and finally grabs the Staff of the Light, taking it from his hands. The world slowly fills with shades of red and pink, birds start their welcoming-the-day serenades. Branch gazes tense at the sky, waiting for a huge loud explosion or something like that.

- Where should I look? - He asks.

- Just sit here and wait - Poppy says. She starts opening flowers' cups on the meadow. - And watch the sky. It will come slowly and smoothly, the first part hasn't got a big entrance or something.

- The first part? - Branch chuckles. - Maybe I shouldn't have asked how big it is, but how long it is.

The goddess of the Day smiles, not stopping her work. The blue god knows he is supposed to watch the sky and wait, but it is so easy to be distracted by her.

 Poppy gently opens every little or big flower cup. She touches them so carefully to not damage any of the sensitive pedals. The Staff shines gold in her hand, its Light brightens her rose complexion. Her hair looks so soft and majestic in its golden glow. He wonders how it would feel to sink his fingers into it. And her tiny, twinkling freckles... He wishes she would let him count them all, one by one. The touch of her smooth, warm skin was so delightful…

 Not like his. His skin is always cold. He all is cold. But when Branch's with her it's not that bad. Especially if she gives him a bit of her warmth... How is she doing that? Her smile makes his heart gets warm, he feels warmth, a real one, inside him, and it's like nothing else in this world, it is something so addicting, he wants more and more of it, but he's scared of asking. It's like a little fire inside him, a little fire that he wants to burn him one day or night, he wants to be burned by this fire and he doesn't know why...

And this pink beautiful lady, this gorgeous brisk woman, this sunshine dancing with the flowers on the meadow, this spotless gold heart and a bright, pure mind, this cute smiley face and two sparkling eyes, she... She's here. With him. She's giving him a gift. She likes him and likes hanging up with him. It is so hard to believe. But it makes him feel so good. 

- I told you to look at the sky! - Poppy laughs girlishly and sound. Her cheeks turn red when she notices he's staring at her. 

Branch smiles as he feels his face gets warm and probably purple. He used to get shy because of it, but he kinda starts liking it. Like, a lot.

- Guh, you got me! - He chuckles and lifts his arms. - I'm busted at adoring you. What a shame! I should've known that you're not the sky! 

The goddess actually blushes even more after those words.

- It's also kinda your fault, you were interrupting the sky - The god smirks. Oh my goodness, maybe this is cruel, but it’s so satisfying to see her like that. 

- Stop it! It's you who is supposed to be red right now - She giggles, sitting down next to him with the Staff in her hand.

- Why?

- Just look at the sky, you dork!

He chuckles and listens up. And now he's wondering how he could not notice that. How could he not notice that the whole sky, the whole frickin sky, the whole existing horizon...

Is BLUE.

Blue. Clear beautiful azure. Not milky white as always. But blue. The exact same shade that his eyes have. Blue. Azure blue. He even doesn't notice that his mouth is open wide until Poppy closes it with her hand.

- Now, I should say - She catches his sight and shows him a sweet smile. - How much I like sinking into your beautiful azure eyes.

He has no idea how his face looks right now. His mind just stops working, his sight gets lost somewhere between the sky and Poppy's eyes and smile. He tries to gather his thoughts. 

- I... don't know what to say… - He breathes out, after a while.

- You don't have to say anything! Aren't you the god of Silence?

He spits a chuckle.

- I am

- Branch, I just want to show you that... - She looks down a bit shyly. - I adore you as much as you adore me. I... - She sinks her fingers into her hair. - You know, it's this weird, funny feeling...

- Yeah - He smiles at her, grabbing a strand of her hair that falls on her face. He puts it behind her ear and lets his hand stay a bit there. - I know.

She's smiling, but not this huge, wide sunny smile she has when she gets excited, but a little, gentle one, much more similar to the smiles he does, a cute one. His thumb moves slightly through her warm cheek. Her face is so small, his hand cups almost half of it. It is so weird and so enjoyable that she likes it, but he lets go of her face. He lets go, fearing the desire in his chest, the desire to never let go of her warm soft skin. 

Poppy's sigh of delight is such a pleasant sound, another thing he can't get enough of.

- Are you ready for the next part? - She lifts her eyebrows with a smirk.

- I don't think so - Branch smiles.

- Well, you have a break now, I have a few things to do, and then the Midday and... you know - She shrugs her shoulders. - Responsibilities. But after that, I'll show you one more thing!

- And I will be following you whole this time like a creepy ghost - He jokes. - Maybe there is something I can help with?

Poppy gets her eyes up and twists her face as she's thinking.

- Well, I can find something for you.

* * * 

- After the first part of the surprise - Branch screams to be hearable in the loud sounds of rain. - I've imagined the second one much different than that!

They are wet, they are so wet. But the feeling of uncomfortableness fades with the sweet melody of Poppy's laugh.

- It's kinda prolog of it! - She yells at him. - We have to wait until the end of the rain!

- Yay! What fun! - Branch jumps and waves his hands, pretending that the situation is really enjoyable. The goddess laughs. It is the only reason he's still here in the rain. He raises his arms, tilts his head back, closing his eyes, and roars with displeasure. Cause this is displeasure. He stays like that. He drops his arms, but his face and hair are facing the droplets with all of their wetness. The tepid water is flowing over his whole cold body. The calming hiss is in the whole forest. He feels like the water cleans his mind leaving nothing but the sound of the droplets’ hits and the warmth of the rain.

- Actually - Branch murmurs. - It's quite pleasant.

After a long nice moment, when the rain lets go a bit and becomes a drizzle, the god hears Poppy's voice calling his name.

- Look! - She points at something in the sky.

He glances at it and gasps. There is a big hole in the grey clouds, with a clear, bright azure shining at the Land. And below it... a long translucent colorful ribbon streams from it down to the forest. The seven colors of it are so clear and beautifully illuminating against the background of grey rainy clouds. Mesmerizing bright colors. Wonderfully clear and pure. Strikingly splendid and simply gorgeous like a tender smile. Branch forgets about the world for a minute. He can’t take his eyes off it.

- I called it 'a rainbow' - Poppy says with pride. - It was so hard to design and to make. But Satin and Chenille, you know, the twins' goddesses of Beauty, are two geniuses! They helped me a lot. But sadly, a rainbow appears only in the drizzle. It's made with a mix of tiny droplets and Light. So I asked Trollazart to make it rain today - She chuckles, looking at the wet god. - I'm sorry.

He stares at the rainbow in Silence. She isn't sure if he adores it or gets lost in his thoughts. But the Silence is way longer than ever was.

- Umm, Branch?

His lips vibrate slightly as if he wants to say something, but he hesitates.

- What if - He starts really slowly and now Poppy is sure his mind is somewhere else. - What if we make an endless source of drizzle?

She frowns.

- When water falls into another water from a high height - He explains, showing the thing with his hands. - It makes a drizzle around. So if we create something like... A river falling from a height in the sunny place...

- It will make a drizzle and rainbow in it all the time! - Poppy gasps. She jumps excitedly. - Branch, it's so genius!

- Let's do it right now - He says, looking around to find the nearest river and starts walking quite fast. Poppy runs after him, bouncing slightly with joy. Are they going to make something together? Oh, this day is so fun!

When they arrive at its shore, the rain stops pouring. Poppy puts her hand into the water and calls the god's name. After a few seconds, the navy face, slightly illuminating violet, shows up from the water and two, big eyes gaze at them curiously.

- Hi Synth! - Poppy beams at the smiley god of rivers.

- Hi Pops! Hello Branch! - He cheers. - What's up, my fellows?

- Can you make a river for us? - Branch asks. - We need a river that will be falling from a high height in a sunny place.

- Crazy! - Synth yells. - I like crazy! Come with me!

And he dives into the water, disappearing.

- Umm, Synth? - Poppy calls him once again. 

His smiley face immediately shows up from the water. Again.

- Yes?

Branch clears his throat.

- Oh - The river god realizes. - I'm sorry. Let's go on the Land!

And with that saying, he steps on the ground.

- Do you know a place where you would like to see your river? - He beams at them both, putting his hands on his hips.

- I think I know a good place - Poppy replies and shows the direction.

When they come there, well, what to say more, it is a perfect place for their idea! The cliff is in the beautiful, sunny area, wild horses pasture nearby on the steppe. Synth calls the water from the Ocean and after an hour a brand-new river is ready and beautiful, streaming through the field. They call the place where it falls a "waterfall". 

- I give this beauty the name "Lora" - Synth announces. - I don't know why, but this river looks exactly like Lora.

- Sure - Branch nods, not getting. - Thank you for creating Lora for us.

- You're welcome! - The god salutes. - If you want something else, you know where to find me! - He throws, diving into the water of the new river. 

- Bye! - Poppy waves him goodbye.

- Ok, come here with the Staff of Light - Branch asks her.

The goddess comes close to the waterfall. She feels the fresh drizzle on her face. They both glance at it and gasp happily.

The rainbow appears above the water's surface.

- It's so beautiful! - The god is amazed. She never heard such a swoon in his voice. - I mean, the colors are so clear and vivid...

- Yeah - Poppy smiles.

They stare at it for a long while, just adoring its beauty. At the very same moment when the goddess wants to suggest that maybe they could sit down here and spend a bit of time together, the god jumps up with saying:

- Guh, it's so inspiring. I have a huge idea - Branch turns to her. - Can I keep it as a surprise?

Poppy looks at him kinda confused.

- Well, yes, of course!

- Then, I'm going to make it - He says, walking away.

The goddess of the Day stands very still, close to the waterfall, watching the smaller and smaller silhouette of the god of the Night on the horizon. She imagined that they would be sitting somewhere, talking about anything and just enjoying each others' company, as always. But now? She is just shocked. Only one, simple word, filled with surprise and disappointment, slips from her lips.

- What.

___________________________________

Index

[five-miles-over]

‘Aftermath’ Chapter 11: All I Ask of You (Commodus x OC)

Summary: Hoping to prove his own fears wrong, Commodus demands something more of his Pink Fairy. Meanwhile, Philomenus is determined not to back away from his plot to kill the emperor. 

Warning: Another incestuous kiss, and a little smut towards the end

Word Count: 3,694 (a bit longer than most chapters - please forgive me)

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here

Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here

Read Part 7: Wait For It here

Read Part 8: Something There here

Read Part 9: Be Prepared here

Read Part 10: Twisted Every Way here

“What is it? Tell me,” Commodus demanded the guard.  

“The girl, Sire. She’s unconscious.” 

Almost immediately, the emperor of Rome blinked in surprise while his limbs went numb. The guard couldn’t possibly be talking about the girl….his girl that he saw this morning. “Why…why have I been called?”

“She is under your penal custody, Sire. The physician can only administer medicine if you approve.”

Good heavens, Commodus cursed to himself as he strode towards the infirmary. He couldn’t let her die, not like this. Lucius almost jogged behind his uncle’s large footsteps, trying to keep up. 

When he reached the entrance of the infirmary, Commodus almost felt his heart stop for a moment as he tried to process the sight before him. Caesonia was lying down motionless on one of the white, unembellished beds. The physician’s assistant pressed a soaked rag to her forehead, while the physician observed. Much to the emperor’s surprise, the he chuckled when he looked at the doorway. “What amuses you, Galen?” Commodus asked, his lower lip twitching in anger.

“Forgive me, Highness. I merely remembered the day you were brought here after your battle. Unconscious, you lay on a bed in the infirmary while the girl watched physicians tend to you. And now here you are when she’s on the bed!”

Galen’s observation did nothing to alleviate Commodus’s spirits. Rather, it upset him even further to know it was his Pink Fairy who was being tended to. The emperor gazed at her with trembling hands as he sat on the edge of her bed. 

“What happened to her?” He asked Galen in a surprisingly quiet voice. The physician explained to him that Caesonia seemingly fainted from hunger and dehydration, a common condition among prisoners. However, due to her being in the palace instead of the dungeons, the guards must’ve believed it appropriate to bring her to the physician. 

Nodding slowly, Commodus rose from the bed without taking his eyes off of her for a moment. Trying to hide his fear of losing her, he hastily told Galen to administer her proper medication and to have her brought back to her chamber when she was sentient. 

“I wish to see her again tonight.”

“It shall be so, Highness.”

The emperor wasted no time in going to his study and pulling out a blank piece of parchment . Maximus, Lucilla, the late Caesar…he was going to prove them all wrong tonight. He was going to prove that Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus was truly capable of fulfilling the duty of a moral man, the duty of a loyal, courageous man. He would reveal everything to the object of his devotion- even if written words were all he had to offer her.

On the empty parchment, he began scribbling things that he wished that he could tell his rose, intimate things that he had only kept to himself until now, and even the clandestine things he would not even dare to acknowledge himself. Commodus’s hand clenched tightly around the quill as he purged his thoughts with ink. 

What if she laughs at me? No…she would not. She did not look one bit afraid when I came to her last night. She willingly took me in her arms and slept in my company. I knew the look in her eyes. Unlike everyone else, she saw me as a man instead of merely a ruler. No, she will not turn me away. She will be mine, and only mine.

——————————————————————————————————————- 

A few hours and several discarded pieces of parchment later, Emperor Commodus found himself standing at the doorway of her chamber. “Have her awoken and tell her I wish to see her,” he muttered to a guard after giving a small reward to the Praetorian for having brought Caesonia to Galen. There was truly no need for such formality - the emperor could see his prisoners whenever and however he wanted to - but she was no ordinary prisoner. Holding the letter, Commodus hoped that she would know just that. 

“Ave Caesar.” She attempted to stand, only to have him place her back on the bed. Reaching for his hand, Caesonia silently kissed his ring. Her eyelashes fluttered as she let go and hugged her knees close. Had she angered him? Was he expecting her to call him by name, just like she’d done this morning?

The two of them sat before each other in silence for a few moments before Commodus attempted to make small talk. He was crestfallen when she told him that she had no recollection of fainting, claiming only to remember walking around for a while before everything went black. Instead of trying to explain to her what happened, the emperor crumpled up the letter in his hand and kept a serious expression.

“I’m going to release you. You will no longer be my prisoner, Lady Caesonia.”

“You…you’re going to release me, Highness? To Antioch?”

“No.”

Caesonia blinked back tears at his callous declaration, unsure of what he could be implying. “As…as…as you wish, Caesar.” Just when she had begun to like the man talking to her, instead of fearing the emperor, he wanted her gone. If it weren’t for the stories about his temper and his cruelty, she would’ve fought to stay, begging and pleading for him not to send a lonely girl into a harsh city. If she were sent to Antioch, she’d at least have her father…assuming the emperor didn’t have him killed. But Caesonia felt too upset with herself to argue or even ask.

He dropped the crumpled parchment onto the floor. “Look at me.” Commodus grasped her chin and turned her towards him. “Caesonia…” he murmured, softly caressing her cheek. Gods, he hadn’t expected her to look so stone-like; it didn’t seem like she appreciated his gesture one bit. “You are going to be my wife. That is what I meant when I said you were no longer going to be my prisoner. I meant you were going to be my wife.”

Sensing her emotionless state, he straightened himself. “An emperor needs an heir,” Commodus continued, pacing the floor while he told her about the importance of an emperor’s marriage. He did not tell her about how he longed for her, and how he envied her ability to sleep so peacefully. And he certainly did not let a word slip about how he cherished her innocence and took great pleasure in her touch.

Caesonia reluctantly accepted his reasoning, despite her skepticism at his sudden proposal. She would never wish to get in the way of his duty as an emperor.

“Highness…” 

“Commodus,” he quickly cut her off. “I cannot waste our marriage telling you to call me that.”

“You dropped something on the floor, Commodus.” She calmly tried to explain, reaching for the parchment. 

Like a little boy caught doing mischief, Commodus reluctantly placed his hands in his lap while he watched her smooth the creases of the crumpled paper. His heart was in his throat yet again when her eyes examined the messily-written words.

Dearest Caesonia,

I wanted to make you mine since the moment our eyes met.

You were the reason I became a father to the people of Rome again. 

I couldn’t bear to send you away, and so I kept you for myself.

With every kiss and every glance that we shared, I felt your devotion and your kindness in each one. 

Yet I have given you coldness, when you deserved the warmth of a blanket on a frigid night.

I want to end this darkness, for I have enjoyed a glimpse of summertime. She stands before me, with a laugh like music and eyes of azure.

I long to be the sunlight that touches your perfect cheeks and caresses your soft skin every morning.

I want you to lead me from this painful solitude, my rose. And tell me that you want me as I want you.

 Indeed the pangs of love can make one very greedy, my rose.

 If you knew all of the desires that I feel for you…you would purse your delicate lips and compare me to a miser hungering for jewels.

And if you touched me again and looked into my eyes, they would tell you that I am yours…and that I want to be only yours.

The letter was somewhat disorganized, nothing like the eloquent speeches that he delivered before citizens or Senators. Caesonia’s heart softened as she underlined each word with her finger. Blinking again, she nervously smiled at Commodus and dared herself to place her hand on top of his. 

“Thank you…I do not know what to say.”

The emperor once again felt a mixture of surprise and courage, expecting her to be repulsed by his written confession. “Then kiss me.”

She gently pecked his lips, having never taken the lead before. 

“That was very nice, Caesonia,” he murmured darkly. “But…I’m afraid that kiss would only satisfy a boy, my rose. Do you think of me as a boy?”

“No,” her voice faltered as her fingertips traced his arm. “You…you’re an emperor.”

“And?” he chuckled. “Is that all I am to you?”

“You’re a man,” Caesonia conceded. 

“Yes I am,” he boldly tucked a hair behind her ear. “The people of Rome cannot see that, but you do.” Gods, she took his breath away without even trying to. If he could take her in his arms and hold her to his chest right now, he would never want to leave the bed.  Yet, he did not wish to have to bring her back to Galen. “Would you like to dine with me tonight?”

He continued, “I am asking as a man, not as an emperor, my rose. I will not punish you if you do not wish to accompany me.” But you must eat, he did not add. 

Caesonia accepted his pleasant-sounding proposal, much to Commodus’s jubilance. He would be thrilled to celebrate his impending marriage to a lovely woman of unwavering loyalty.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“The emperor will be furious when he finds this out.” 

Livid, Claudia was trying her best to not scream at her brother in front of their younger siblings. He was too proud about his plan to assassinate the emperor tomorrow at the Games.

Philomenus brought one of the twins into his lap. “Commodus will be dead before he can scream for the bitch that gave birth to him.”

“Don’t say that in front of the twins,” she scolded him. “And the emperor you love so much, loved his wife too.” In response to his sister, Philomenus remarked that Marcus Aurelius’s love didn’t stop his wife from having an affair with a gladiator. 

“Why are you defending him so much?” He fumed when she accused him of believing slander, watching her clean the kitchen.

Shoving a plate into the cupboard, Claudia huffed, “I’m defending him because he is the reason we are able to fill our bellies everyday. Otherwise I would be at a brothel at night, selling myself to buy bread the next morning.”

“Don’t give me that talk,” he angrily ordered. “As the man of the house, I would never let you do such a thing, not even if we were destitute.”

“Such will be our state if you dare bite the hand that feeds us!” 

Philomenus cornered her in the kitchen, blocking her so that she couldn’t escape. “Why don’t you understand?” He hissed, gritting his teeth. “We cannot survive for long under Commodus’s rule. All he cares about are the games! He’s killed his own father, stabbed General Maximus, murdered Senator Gracchus, banished his sister, and dissolved the entire Senate! Claudia, this man is not worthy of being the protector of Rome!”

His words did nothing to change her opinion. “Please, Philomenus…” Tears were rolling down Claudia’s cheeks as she quivered with terror. “Please don’t go through with this…I cannot lose you…think of the twins, if not of me.”

“I am thinking about them,” he cupped her cheeks. “I am thinking about their future in a republic, where the power will lie with the people of Rome. Don’t cry, sweet sister.” Philomenus brushed his lips against hers, hurt by her sobs. “Pray to the gods that Commodus will fall and Rome will finally regain her true self.”

—————————————————————————————————————

Figs and goat cheese had never tasted better. Commodus grinned as Caesonia fed him from the platter of food. Given faith and a little encouragement, she quickly blossomed from a fearful maiden into an affectionate betrothed. 

“Now let me feed you too,” he cooed, bringing a piece of bread dipped in olive oil to her mouth. She giggled while she chewed, placing a hand over her mouth out of modesty.  Unbeknownst to any of the servants, the two of them had been playing a flirtatious game under the table with their shoes. 

There was something about being with Caesonia that brought Commodus into a playful mood. He fondly thought about how they splashed each other in the baths like children this morning, and how he held her in his arms. If it hadn’t been for that impudent guard, he would’ve ravished her in those pools until they were tired.

She would be a good wife to him…perhaps even a good adoptive mother to Lucius as well. And in return, Commodus swore to himself that he would prove Maximus and Lucilla wrong and be a faithful, adoring husband. 

He continued to make small talk with Caesonia while they ate, occasionally exchanging a witty remark about Romans. She was impressed with his stories, her smile growing wider as he dramatically narrated about his favorite gladiatorial games. 

By the end of the meal, Caesonia was innocently interlacing her fingers in his. She turned her head towards window, having never seen such a spell-binding view in such a long time. Under a veil of darkness, the city of Rome looked very much alive, almost picturesque. 

“I wish I could see more,” Caesonia gushed. “The nighttime is so beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“It certainly is. Would you like to come to the terrace with me? Perhaps the view would be better.”

Accepting his invitation, she followed Commodus to the terrace. Bringing the emperor’s hands to her waist, Caesonia nuzzled into his chest and occasionally pressed her lips to his armor as she watched the stars. She hadn’t seen such a view in months, having been locked up in a tiny room with a window almost as big as her head. And even though Caesonia knew she was in the arms of the man responsible for her imprisonment, it didn’t feel as if she were dancing in the lion’s den. It felt like the comfort that she didn’t know that she craved for.

Stolen kisses bloomed into little signs of endearment, culiminating in a liplock that left the two of them breathless. 

“I would very much like to make love to you,” Commodus murmured out of nowhere, not paying one bit of attention to the sky anymore. The mood was too perfect for him to stifle his amorous desires. 

“But…but I have never done it before,” Caesonia faltered, “I’m a virgin. It…I…I wouldn’t be good.” Her jaw slightly dropped when the emperor confessed to her that he too had never laid with anyone before. Given the myriad of concubines and courtesans presented before him, she would’ve thought of him to be…experienced.

Of course, Commodus had actually been with a concubine once, two years ago in Germania. But given the lingering ominous atmosphere after his father’s death, not even two bottles of wine could make him impassioned. It only made him cry. 

Moreover, the young emperor secretly wished to save himself for someone who loved him, as he loved them. 

“But it is your choice, my rose,” he promised her. “If you do not wish for this, then I shall wait.”

“No, I would like to do this,” Caesonia persuaded him. It would truly do nothing for her to refuse him. If she was going to become his wife, then perhaps it would be a prelude to their life together. And if he didn’t want to marry her…then at least she could spend the night with someone who had pleased her with a love letter and an intimate dinner. “I would like to do this, Commodus.”

Nodding furiously, the emperor felt like he would explode trying to maintain his regal posture while hurrying his beloved to his bedroom. No sooner had the doors closed, Commodus crashed his lips into hers and sighed lustfully. 

He traced the curve of her shoulders, looking up and down at his beautiful girl. The emperor couldn’t wait to take her - it had been his fantasy for several nights. And yet it intimidated him, to be standing before her now; should he be rough with her or be gentle and enjoy each moment? It was a thought that had never crossed his mind before tonight. 

Commodus watched her body tremble. Her blue eyes followed his finger as he brushed it along her collarbone. He saw how the fine hairs on her arms stood on their ends as he held her. No, tonight would not be for merely satiating his fantasy. It would be a new beginning for them - one built upon intimacy, not upon trepidation.

The emperor kissed her again, sighing when he felt her hands in his hair again. As they deepened the kiss, Caesonia whimpered and Commodus slyly slid his tongue into her, which only strengthened her desires.

“I’d like to take your armor off,” she told him in a low voice. When he agreed, Caesonia began untying each part and placing it aside. The emperor found himself laughing under his breath at how delicately she was handling his protective garb. It wasn’t her fault that he wore so many layers. 

Finally, she pulled his tunic over his arms and let her hands linger against his chest, running a thumb over his male nipple. Caesonia admired the way his body resembled that of a Roman Adonis - well-built indeed, but it was not too muscular that it detracted from his natural good looks. She swallowed hard, returning to meet his eyes again. “You look handsome without it.”

“Thank you,” Commodus replied with the same tone. She knew nothing about the paranoia in his mind that made him wear armor all the time. Blessed was her innocence, he silently praised as his lips brushed against her neck. “Your dress…”

“You can take it off,” she consented. Soon, her pink stola became a heap of fabric on the floor and was joined by her coarse undergarments. Every other day, the emperor had a new rosy-hued dress brought for her to change into. Perhaps it was the similarity to the garments she’d chosen to wear to his infamous duel that cemented the association between her and the color pink. 

Commodus guided Caesonia to his bed, and gently laid her onto the mattress. Pushing her hair back, he admired her face and tried to memorize every detail. He did not wish to forget a single thing about tonight. Bringing his lips back to her neck, he climbed on top of her and slowly kissed his way down her naked body.

Having never felt so much pleasure, Caesonia threw her head back and sinfully moaned. While she loved his lips against her skin, she begged and pleaded for him to stop teasing so much.

Boyishly smiling, the emperor exhaled sharply as Caesonia peppered his neck and shoulder with soft kisses. It felt a bit clumsy at first, but as his groans of pleasure grew needier, she felt bolder with passionate devotion.

“I want you inside me, Commodus. Please.”

His cock entered between her legs and ,with one last kiss to her lips, Commodus began to slowly move within her. “Am I hurting you?” “No…” Caesonia assured him quickly before sighing in pleasure, rolling her hips to meet his.

In moments, the two of them were moaning with ecstasy while they rode each other. With her legs locked around his waist to pull him deeper inside, Caesonia screamed his name as if it were the only word she knew. And Commodus accelerated his thrusts until the two of them reached their orgasm. He smeared his cum all over her slit and her inner thighs, grunting in satisfaction. 

Feeling chills down her spine, Caesonia ran her fingers through Commodus’s hair and shoulders as he peppered her chest with dulcet kisses. She enjoyed the feeling of his unblemished skin and silky hair; it helped her recover from the surge of adrenaline.

He slowly rolled off her and spoke in a hushed voice, for her ears only. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, dear Caesonia.”

“The life-giving breath in my lungs, the crimson blood coursing through my veins…the beating of my heart,” the emperor continued. “They all speak your name.” He took her hand in his and placed it against his chest, hoping that she would find even an ounce of truth within his honeyed words.

“I think I can love you as well, Commodus.” She carefully draped an arm around his waist, praying that their tender exchanges of love would not be gone with the sunrise. That his affections for her were true, and not part of a scheme to toy with her fragile state. Or that she wasn’t part of some lust-driven game to invite her into his bed and then dispose of her in the morning. 

Interrupting her line of thought, Commodus whispered to Caesonia that she was trembling. Shaking her head in response, she lied to him that she was merely cold. 

“Sleep with me, my beauty,” he brought her closer in his arms, relishing the warmth of his skin against hers. Nuzzling into his neck, Caesonia lulled herself into slumber by idly tracing patterns on his shoulder. Right now, veiled by the protection of Nyx - the Goddess of the Night - they were only two people who’d given themselves to each other in complete surrender. Nothing more, and nothing less.

[fletchphoenix]

Sweet As Sugar, Right As Rain

Chapter 3 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU! Yay! Thanks so much for all the support I’ve been receiving on this fic, I’ve enjoyed writing it so so much! It’s just been amazing (considering this is my first time EVER writing a fic so aha, I really appreciate the support!) Enjoy! <3

Word Count : 3809

TW - Strong Language

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

  Sunlight beamed through the windows, the rays penetrating the temporary shield of his curtains and straight into his eyes. Hugo let out a loud groan and raised his arm to shield his eyes from the blinding light, however his attempts were futile. He resorted to pulling the emerald sheets over his head with a groan. Birds outside had other plans however, singing and tweeting right outside his goddamn window to ensure he couldn’t go back to sleep. Hugo shoved the sheets back in frustration, kicking them off him and letting them fall into a bundle on the floor. “Note to self. Buy some shutters.” he muttered, propping himself up on his elbows and reaching out for his glasses on the bedside table. 

  As everything came into focus, he took a second to look into the mirror. “Holy fucking shit.” he complained. Blonde locks jutted out in every direction imaginable, sticking up unnaturally. “Okay then. Shower time.” he said to no one in particular, shuffling off his bed as it made a painfully loud creak once his weight left it. Squeaking and shuffling sounded from the cage across his room, catching his attention, and he glanced over. A smile quickly took over his face.

  “Olivia! Hey there girl.” he jogged over, sitting at his desk and opening the top drawer of his desk to take out a packet of sunflower seeds. He tipped a few out of the packet, examining them in his hand before placing them in the cage in front of her. She inhaled the seeds, chittering and scurrying around in the cage happily after her breakfast with an energy unlike any other he’d seen before.

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re excited. But I’ve gotta go get ready, sweetheart.” he muttered, moving to stand. He gave in to his urges at her pouty face (could mice even pout? He’d have to google it later) before reaching into her cage with his finger and running a finger over her smooth, golden fur. “Okay, NOW I’ve gotta go.” he told the mouse sternly, pushing the chair away from the desk and moving to his feet. Arms made their way above his head in a long stretch as he made his way through the tiny apartment to his bathroom. 

  He should be grateful, he thought, that Donella was kind enough to let him live alone, but god, this place was less than satisfactory. The window panes were cracked in their frames and never really shut properly - making winters like these with their incessant flurries of snow the worst in the world. Banging and screaming always sounded from above him, with his neighbours being possibly the most dysfunctional couple in the history of romance. The walls were paper thin too - he could hear whenever his frat-boy next door neighbour bought a girl round, dreading whenever he did, and he wasn’t even allowed to keep any real pets! It took MANY hours of seducing the landlord to be allowed to keep Olivia in the apartment with him. And don’t even get him started on the rip-off rent costs. Alas, it was home and he couldn’t bear to live with Donella again. She was a great woman, taking him in when he was young and supporting him, but she was terrible when it came to motherly duties and..it was pointless to expect that from her. 

  The bathroom wasn’t much to brag about, either. A lime mat covered most of the tiled floor with a heater barely peeking out under the mass of towels placed carelessly on top of it. Reaching out, he turned the handle and let the water run, so it could heat up gradually. He tapped his foot as we waited, checking his phone. 11:15am. Why did it feel like he was forgetting something? It was probably something Donella told him to do. She did that sometimes - springing plans onto him out of nowhere. As if he didn’t have a social life at all. So inconsiderate, he mumbled to himself. It didn’t matter anyway, the shower water already at the right temperature. He stripped out of his pyjamas and hopped in.

  After his shower, Hugo finished drying his hair, tied it up and quietly changed into a light yellow shirt, blue jeans and his signature green jacket. He loved that jacket dearly, it being one of the first gifts Donella ever got him that wasn’t second-hand. (“Your clothes look ratty,” she’d said, trying to suppress her soft smile with a hardened expression. “I got you new ones. Maybe now you’ll look even slightly presentable.”) At least she was trying, he’d told himself as he started to fix his hair in the mirror. 

  Once he was fully satisfied, he set his course for the kitchen. In the hall, he passed various framed posters on the walls along with newspapers and small sticky notes with his engineering questions noted down on them. (All green, of course, because what was he, a monster? He had an aesthetic to uphold and he was determined to do so, goddamnit!). Shelves also littered the wall - containing various books on topics like engineering, chemistry, biology and physics. Donella had given him them too, so he had something to read growing up and to entertain himself while she was away on her business trips with her friend, Ulla. Sure, she’d be gone weeks at a time, leaving Hugo with Cyrus to be taken care of, but at least he had someone there to take care of him.

  He trailed his hand to the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open and walking into the room. It was slightly bigger than the other rooms in the apartment - counters along the walls with a small table in the middle. A clock sat on the wall as well. 12:26pm. Why did it still feel like he was forgetting something? A string of curses left his mouth after he, in his distracted state, stubbed his toe on the chair, “Motherfucker! Ow!” he cried out and hopped awkwardly to the coffee machine which was, not surprisingly at all, fern green. 

  Hugo let the machine do its thing, taking the cup of absolute joy after it was done and adding some sugar. Black coffee was his saviour on a morning - especially after he’d had a party the night before. The bitter taste flooded his mouth and tickled his nose, him letting out a content sigh of happiness. This was it. The freedom he’d always wanted. He let the serenity of the moment relax the tension in his shoulders and allowed himself a moment where he could just be alone. 

  The moment was broken by a bleep on his phone.

  “For fuck’s sake..” Hugo muttered as he checked the time again. 12:47pm. Shit, had it really been that long? Oh well..not as if he had anything to do today. His eyes scanned over the text he had received. 

Cyrus : Hey bud. Have a good time on your date today. Remember - Donella needs you at the workshop by 17:00. Don’t be late.

  Shit.

  He’d forgotten. How had he forgotten he was meeting up with Varian? He was such an idiot! He’d scored a date with the most handsome boy on the planet and somehow he’d forgotten! In his panic, Hugo tipped the coffee down the sink and rushed to the door...stubbing his toe again and slipping over. “FUCKING CHAIR!” he yelled and scrambled to his feet, scurrying and sitting on a step to lace up his shoe. His wallet and keys sat on the table by the door, his hand hurriedly scooping them up, shoving them into his pocket and racing out the door.

  Lungs gasped for air and burned as he sprinted down the street, dodging people on his journey to the coffee shop. The sun shining in the sky was deceiving, the bitter winter air biting at the back of his neck. He should’ve bought a scarf. It was too goddamn cold out here - the December airs howling past his ears. He should’ve bought his headphones too. Oh god, he hoped Varian hadn’t bailed on him. 

  He fell through the doorway, gulping at the stares he received as he made his way through the people in the shop in search of one boy in particular with the beautiful blue streak in his raven hair. He stuttered apologies before his eyes found what he was looking for. Making his way over, he began to apologise. “Hey hairstripe, sorry I’m late. I was-”. His words died out as he made his way closer.

  There, in the same booth as before, sat perfection in its finest form. Varian. His azure eyes were focused outside, gazing and half lidded but looking at nothing in particular. His ebony hair blew slightly in the slight breeze created by the fan in the shop, with the blue streaks sticking out against it. Freckled skin had a slight shine to it from the sun’s rays that provided perfect lighting and bringing out his soft features. His cyan sweater complimented the rest of his outfit, the headphones hanging around his neck matching the colour of his sneakers. It was like a movie scene - absolutely perfect. His mouth felt dry as the boy turned his head and gave him an excited smile and Hugo could swear he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of it. 

  “Hugh! Hey!” Varian said, waving his hand and watching Hugo as he moved to sit in the booth opposite him. “It’s fine, you don’t need to apologise. I got here early anyway so I was just listening to some music.” he added onto the end, leaning against the table with a grin on his face. “Love the jacket by the way, really compliments the shirt.” 

  “I-thank you. I could say the same for you though. That sweater really brings out your eyes. And your hair.” he reached out his hand, running the strands between his fingers before pulling his hand away. He let out a chuckle at the sight of Varian’s flushed face, eyes fixated on the younger male as he tucked his hair behind his ear and fiddled with the hem of his shirt stuttering out explanations. “Hairstripe, calm down. It’s just a compliment. Anyway, what do you want? The drink is on me.” 

  “Oh, um -a vanilla latte again. Please.”

  “Don’t miss me too much.” he grinned with a smug expression, laughing when Varian pushed him playfully before walking off to order. He let out a content sigh and glanced back at Varian as he ordered their drinks. The boy in question was playing with his hair as he read a chemistry textbook that he must’ve placed on the table when he left. He looked so beautiful, just sitting there without a care in the world. Hugo could just watch him forever, a red tint starting to build on the tips of his ears and cheeks as he realised just how long he’d been staring. He tore his eyes away from the breathtaking boy near the window and brought his attention back to the barista.

  “Vanilla latte and black coffee for Hugo?” the chestnut haired girl questioned, placing the drinks on the side and allowing Hugo to pick them up. He nodded graciously, flashing her a smile before returning to his seat. Leaving a $5 tip in the jar on the way, he sauntered back to the table with the drinks in hand and a smile on his face. 

  “Lord Varian, your drink has been served by your humble servant. I am forever in your debt.” he laughed and sat down opposite the boy again as he pulled his drink close to his chest and took a sip. Hugo looked out of the window with a smile, eyeing the people walking past in the freezing weather, holding hands with their loved ones and cuddling them close to ward back the December breeze. He wished he could do that with a certain obsidian haired boy sitting across from him reading a chemistry textbook like the adorable nerd he was. “So. How’s your week been? I saw you were in the library yesterday. You did look great by the way.” He smirked and winked in his direction.

  “Oh! It's been fine, Hugh. I do tutoring with Nuru on Wednesdays. We look after the sweetest boy in the world called Yong. He’s seriously the smartest kid I’ve ever met, but he gets so nervous to show it, y’know? And Nuru...god, she’s an amazing girl! Intelligent, yes, but just so mature and caring towards everyone! She’s a sweetheart really. How about you? Why were you there yesterday?” Varian asked quizzically, giving Hugo a little head tilt that made his heart soar. Fuck, he loved this boy. 

  “Me? Oh well, I was just picking up some books and doing some studying. I have an essay due in a few weeks and I just needed to look up some things.” he lied through his teeth. It was TOTALLY not because he wanted to see the other teen again before their date. Nope. No way. Nuh-uh. 

  “If you want me to, I could help you with your-”

  “NO!” He yelled out, leaning forward against the table before flushing red and moving back into his seat, composing himself and tapping his leg rapidly to calm himself down. “I’m sorry, I uh-I think I’ll be fine on my own. Thanks for the offer though.” he chuckled awkwardly, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry...I’m just really awkward.” he apologised, sliding back in his chair and covering his face with his hands. Great. Perfect. Absolutely swell. He’s just embarrassed himself in front of the boy of his dreams like an absolute idiot. If whatever god there was could just strike him dead right now, that would be fan-fucking-tastic-

  A giggle followed by laughter and snorts broke him out of his spiral of self hatred. Varian’s hands wrapped around his wrists and gently lowered them, the most loving smile Hugo had ever seen plastered on his face as he dealt with the aftershocks of his laughing fit. “It’s okay. It was cute.” the boy commented, Hugo’s face twisting into a smile as well before joining him in his fit of laughter. 

  They must’ve looked like a strange pair - two boys laughing so hard they were in tears at a coffee shop in the middle of December, but neither of them cared. They were happy and that was all that mattered. Both took a sip from their coffees as they kept their eyes locked on each other. “Yep.” Varian thought, “Coffee does taste better when I’m drinking it with Hugo.” he concluded. He shuffled over in his booth, allowing Hugo to slide in beside him and look at the textbook to help with his questions. 

  Hugo tried his hardest to ignore how close Varian was, but after a few hours it became harder and harder to focus, with their shoulders pressed against each other and leaning forward with their eyes fixated on the book. A deep red flush developed on his cheeks yet again. Any closer and they’d be…Hugo tried not to focus on that, his gaze directing to Varian’s hand. He slowly and shakily took the younger’s hand in his own.

  Hugo turned his head to look at Varian, the younger boy coincidentally doing the same thing at the same time. Their noses almost touched, but both of them were too lost in the moment to bother pointing out the awkwardness of the situation, with Hugo intertwining their fingers under the table. “Hugo?” the younger whispered. Hugo could feel the tantalizing breath on his lips, intermingling with his own. Just a little closer. He tilted his head, leaning in and..

 His phone rang.

  Hugo snapped back to reality and moved away from Varian, letting go of his hand, much to both boy’s disappointment, and picked up his phone to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Hugo.” Donella’s rough voice replied, and boy howdy, did she sound pissed off. He was in trouble for sure this time. “It's 5pm. Where the hell are you.” she growled through the phone.

  “Shit, Donella I’m sorry. I forgot all about the time. I’ll start heading over now, I promise-”

  “Hurry up then.” she commented before hanging up, leaving no time for discussion. Hugo turned to see Varian - the hurt on his face wounding Hugo’s heart. A kicked puppy would probably look less hurt than the boy did in that moment. And he put that look on his face. He really was the worst wasn’t he? 

  “Hey-write down your address. I’ll pick you up at 5 next Thursday-” he began to say, Varian’s face twisting in confusion before grabbing a napkin and handing it to Hugo. “Alright, I’m sorry to cut this short.” he sighed and gathered his things together. Hugo turned to leave, before he felt a hand grab his wrist and a kiss was placed on his cheek. 

  “Thank you.” Varian looked at the floor, his face flushed red however a smile was still evident on it. Hugo’s mouth felt dry yet again as he froze for a second, a now all too familiar heat covering his face. He nodded in response and headed out the store, where he immediately leant against the wall and placed a hand on his cheek. 

  “Holy fucking shit..” he whispered to himself. “I’m in love with Varian Ruddiger.” He let himself get lost in the moment before another bleep reminded him of where he had to be. Shit. He started sprinting down the street, his path illuminated by streetlights as he passed them with a smile on his face. Well…

Next week was gonna be interesting.

  He opened the door to the workshop Donella ran, passing her henchmen as if they weren’t threatening at all. They fixed their glares onto him - okay yep, he was definitely in trouble for being late. He pushed open the doors, putting on his smug facade as he made his way to Donella’s desk. “Hey Donella, I’m here.” he declared, placing his hands on the desk and leaning against it. “You needed me?”

  “Yes, I did.” she frowned at him and gave him her infamous death stare. He cowered back slightly before regaining his composure again. “I trust this won’t happen again..?” she questioned, a slight smile tugging on her lips at the frantic nod he gave. “Good. Now get to work. We have an important client who requested specifically for you to make his product so..get to it.” 

  He hurriedly left her office, heading to his workspace and pulling on his goggles and gloves. Sheesh, that woman could seem evil sometimes - he bet in her past life, she was probably a supervillain. Maybe in an alternate universe, she was. He let out a breathy chuckle, glancing over the blueprints. Hm. Looked difficult, but he could do it. He set the paper aside and began to work, the incident from the coffee shop still playing on his mind. 

He couldn’t wait to see Varian again.

  Meanwhile, Varian packed his things again and began his walk home. Was Hugo about to...kiss him? Did he seriously feel the same as he did? It made him feel giddy just thinking about the way Hugo’s cold hands felt against his warm ones, the closeness that made his heart pound and ache for more contact, the way Hugo leaned in and tilted his head...wow. Hugo liked him. And he liked Hugo. 

  He pushed open his door and, once again, fed Ruddiger before heading up to his room. The cat purred gratefully and ate before following his master, lounging across his bed as if he owned the place. The audacity of the fat bastard! “Sometimes I wonder why I feed you.” Varian wondered aloud, grinning as the cat meowed back and swatted V’s hand as he tried to pet him. “Ow! Okay! Geez, I get it!” he laughed before reaching over and grabbing his phone to see some texts from Hugo.

Hugo : Sorry for leaving so early, short stuff

Hugo : My mom needed me for something and I completely forgot

Hugo : But hey, next week you’ll have me all to yourself ;)))

  Varian scoffed and looked at Ruddiger, who he swore had a disgusted expression as he read the phone screen. “I know Ruddiger. Absolutely disgraceful, isn’t it?” He chuckled, but..deep down he knew he wasn’t opposed to the idea of having Hugo all to himself...He shut that idea down fast, typing out a sarcastic response as he tried (and massively failed) to feign annoyance.

Varian : You wish I’d want that, you twerp

Hugo : Oh I don’t wish, I know ;)

Hugo : also, V? 

Varian : What is it now, Hugh?

Hugo : Thanks for the kiss. Didn’t get the chance to say that earlier but..thanks

Hugo : Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Mom wants me.

Hugo : See you next week, sweetie <3

Varian : No problem, Hugo. See you next week =)

  Varian set his phone aside and sat up. He completely forgot. He kissed Hugo’s cheek. Oh god, please don’t make it awkward, he internally begged. He didn’t want things to become weird between them. He really...really liked Hugo and just didn’t wanna mess this one up. He changed into his PJ’s and shuffled under the covers, reading through their conversations.

  “Goodnight Ruddiger..” he muttered as he turned off the lights and closed his eyes, trying to drift off to sleep. He sighed in frustration and brought out his phone, turning it on quietly and typing out 3 words. 

Varian : I Love You

  His lips twitched into a frown as he stared at those 3 words. They held so much weight - had the power to change the course of his and Hugo’s relationship as soon as he sent them. He thought back to their meeting. Was he just being friendly? Did he just get distracted? Did Hugo actually like him? A hand reached up to run through his hair. What if he was just misreading the signs? 

  What if Hugo found out? What if he found out about all the terrible things Hugo had done? The people he hurt? How badly he messed up? Varian bit his lip so harshly the metallic taste of blood flooded into his mouth. Hugo would never love someone like that. Someone who did everything that he did. Tears he didn’t even know had developed fell onto his phone screen, to his surprise. He quietly set it down and wiped his eyes. Not tonight, he thought.

  Varian held his finger down, erasing the text and setting his phone aside. He tucked his knees into his chest and looked at the wall. He had to tell him one day. Not now, but one day. He slowly started to drift to sleep, the thought of their date still fresh in his mind and the remnants of a smile on his face.

[mikaharuka]

About Mahabhuta, the Apricity Interlude

Despite sharing excerpts, I never explained the fic, so here I am!

[Also, tagging because you might be interested: @mrsmungus, @udaberriwrites, @magma-saarebas19, @danceswithdarkspawn, @aislinnstanaka, @writingpotato07, @alpaca-clouds]

Mahabhuta & Interlude Objectives

As mentioned, Mahabhuta is an interlude (likely the first of many) to Apricity. It takes place in the week between the La Push Bonfire (Obsidian, Ch 10) and the Seattle Day Trip (starting in Sapphire, Ch 12). The chapter in between, (Azure, Ch 11) takes place over the course of this week, but it only covers a few things.

In general, the Saturday that the La Push bonfire happens is a major turning point. The change doesn't just reflect Beau's mind (through the dreams) - they also represent other changes in that world, as well as the mystic bond. This will show up within Mahabhuta and Apricity.

Overview of the Interlude Structure

Mahabhuta is structured in a 5+1 format, for six chapters in total.

Mahabhuta is Sanskrit for "great element". The first five chapters are the five classical elements and the +1 chapter is the original element. Each of those five classical elements has an associated color, sense, and body part. In addition, I used vampire bingo prompts, to assign one main prompt and two secondary prompts to the dreams. Lastly, I've associated each of the Cullen siblings with each element.

All six chapters have a dream phase with Beau and a reality phase with Mike. The elemental themes are in both phases. The dream is E-rated for smut and the reality phase is T-rated. Both are plot-crucial.

The Classic Elements in Sanskrit

As you might have noticed, the titles are in Sanskrit, reflecting the Eastern themes of the WL verse. These are the elements in their traditional order (from coarse to fine, the ground to the heavens):

Prithvi (पृथ्वी, pṛthvī) - Earth

Varuna (वरुण, váruṇa) - Water

Agni (अग्नि, agni) - Fire

Vayu (वायु, vāyu) - Air, Wind

Akasha (आकाश, ākāśa) - Sky, Void, Space

Prakriti (प्रकृति, prakṛti) - Prime, The Origin

Interlude Specifics - Names, Days, Prompts, and Concepts

(as a side note, the Obsidian bonfire was Saturday evening, with the Azure dream taking place over Saturday night into Sunday morning)

Prithvi [Earth]

POV: Beau (dream) + Mike (reality)

Timeline: Sunday night - Monday evening

Color: Green

Sense: Smell/Scent

Body: Flesh/Bone

Vampire: Alice

Prompts: Altar Sex, Fangs, Vampire Bites

Varuna [Water]

POV: Beau (dream) + Mike (reality)

Timeline: Monday night - Tuesday evening

Color: Blue

Sense: Taste

Body: Blood

Vampire: Mina

Prompts: Mist, Blood Sharing, Rejuvenation

Agni [Fire]

POV: Beau (dream) + Mike (reality)

Timeline: Tuesday night - Wednesday evening

Color: Red

Sense: Sight/Vision

Body: Body Heat

Vampire: Elle

Prompts: Fever, Long/Never-Ending Night, Feeling the Cold

Vayu [Air]

POV: Beau (dream) + Mike (reality)

Timeline: Wednesday night - Thursday evening

Color: Yellow

Sense: Touch

Body: Breath

Vampire: Rosalie

Prompts: Hunting, Shadows, Heartbeats

Akasha [Sky]

POV: Beau (dream) + Mike (reality)

Timeline: Thursday night - Friday evening

Color: Violet

Sense: Sound

Body: Soul, Spirit

Vampire: Edward

Prompts: Moonlight, Ageless, Ethereal Beauty

Prakriti [Prime]

POV: Carlisle (dream) + Carlisle (reality)

Timeline: Friday night - Saturday evening***

(***this Saturday is the Seattle trip, coincides with Sapphire onwards)

Color: Black, White

Sense: All

Body: All

Vampire: Carlisle

Prompts: Telepathic Connection, Feral, Humanity

In Conclusion...

This was a fun concept to come up with, and as always, I have to thank Alhaira for being a sound board and listening to my rambles. And yes, some of the stuff that happens will be referenced in Apricity before the corresponding Mahabhuta chapter is posted on AO3.

While it'll be possible to read these chapters fandom-blind (since... you know, the Winter Light verse and Apricity are fandom-blind friendly by default), you would be best off reading Apricity first.

I recommend reading through Azure (Ch 11) for the five elemental chapters and through Midnight (Ch 14) for the +1 chapter, Prakriti.

Not that there's any rush - I'm only halfway through Prithvi (as of January 25)! It's not like Mahabhuta is the only thing I'm working on either - I'll be moving through Apricity and other short pieces. And as everyone and their friend knows... I'm not exactly the fastest writer!

(thank goodness, because Prakriti is already low-key scaring me O.O)

Though... considering I'm at 10k words and see Prithvi hitting 15-20k words in the end, I am considering splitting it. I'll have to see in the end how that turns out. But that is all from me... for now~

[searchingwardrobes]

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 3/11

So this is where things really start to shift from the original, and this is probably one of my favorite chapters. I probably worked harder on it than any other! This is also where Neverland mythology begins to come into play. Right before starting the rewrite-a-thon, I re-read J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan to my eight year old. The famous line “all children, except one, grow up” really hit me for the first time. Wait a second, all children except one? Every version of Neverland I had ever seen, from the cartoon, to Spielberg’s Hook, to Once, portray Neverland as a place where no one ages. But that’s not what the novel says!! Then, later on, the book casually mentions that the Lost Boys are constantly changing because some get killed in battle or - get this - Pan “thins them out” when they get too old. Umm . . . say WHAT? So here’s where my story gets dark with a super sadistic Pan . . . and I’m not sorry. At all. (mwhaha)

If you haven’t noticed, all chapter titles come from Peter Pan. They are either chapter titles in that book or phrases from the book. This one, mocking kisses, actually refers in the novel to Mrs. Darling who has a “mocking kiss conspicuously in the right hand corner of her mouth” which it says not even Mr. Darling or her children can get from her. There’s tons of interpretations for that, none of which have anything to do with how I’m using it here. Here, it has to do with growing up and awakening sexuality, and of course - you know - actual lip locks. So it’s not all dark in this chapter . . .

I’ll stop being an English Lit teacher and shut up now. Except to thank, once again, the incredible mods for the @captainswanbigbang and to my betas - @shippingtheswann , @optomisticgirl , and @distant-rose . This chapter especially deserves massive thanks to Ro for her pirate expertise! And be sure to follow the Captain Swan Rewrite-a-thon because ALL of the fics are incredible!

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and eventual positive Millian

Words: A little over 7k in this chapter (all chapters will be rather lengthy from here on out)

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 16

Emma lies in bed, wide awake, staring at the wardrobe across the room. It looks eerily familiar, though she tries to tell herself that’s crazy.

Her new foster family seems incredibly nice. Even the two boys who are the couple’s real children seem excited to have her here instead of jealous. The mother even seemed embarrassed when she showed Emma her room, explaining that it used to be an office, so it didn’t have a closet. She hoped Emma liked the wardrobe she had found at an antique store.

Emma stares at the wardrobe now and thinks of Martha. Another kind foster mother and another wardrobe, almost identical to the other? Happy coincidences like that don’t happen. At least not to Emma Swan.

She huffs and rolls over on her side, and tries not to think about the little boy with the soulful blue eyes. He was just an imaginary friend. A figment of her hurt soul and bruised heart. Her hand hovers over her cheek, and she inwardly berates herself. It was just a peck on the cheek, and she was ten for heaven’s sake! Correction, there was no peck on the cheek because it wasn’t real.

Because now that she’s 16, she knows better. Friends don’t just fall out of the sky – or wardrobes. And real kisses are an enormous disappointment. Like Tom Pierce when she was 13, her first kiss playing spin the bottle at a Halloween party. All she can say about that is that it was wet and sloppy, and he had bad breath. Then there was Robby Eddleston at the school dance last year. She thought he actually liked her when he asked to talk privately behind the bleachers. Then she was pinned against the wall while Robby shoved his tongue unceremoniously down her throat. But a quick knee to the groin had quickly taught Robby that she wasn’t an easy score.

Emma punches her pillow now in irritation. It’s ridiculous that an imaginary kiss to the cheek has been her best yet. Pathetic, Emma. She decides to push thoughts of the wardrobe and that pair of blue eyes from her head.

She’s just drifting off when a familiar creak reaches her ears. She ignores it, assuming she’s already dreaming. But then she hears footsteps padding softly across the hardwood floor. Emma squeezes her eyes shut tighter. Is someone standing over her, or is that her imagination? Then a hand softly touches her hair, and her eyes fly open as she sits up quickly. Her green orbs meet blue, and she gasps in shock. It startles her so much, her hand seems to act on its own and she slaps him across the cheek - hard.

“Bloody hell, Emma what was that for?”

“Killian?” She swallows hard. “I thought . . . I wasn’t sure . . . I mean, you’re real?”

He smiles, even as he rubs his red cheek, and it lights her up inside. “Liam didn’t think you were real either when I finally told him about you. But when I saw that wardrobe in the captain’s quarters, it looked so much like the one from when we were kids, I had to try.”

Emma winces. “Sorry I slapped you.”

Killian shrugs. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

Emma stares at him unabashedly by the light of her bedside lamp, taking in how much he has changed. Gone is the scrawny little boy, though he is still of slender build. Just like last time, he’s wearing a nightshirt that hangs to his knees, but she can still see defined muscles in his arms and legs. His chest is broader, and his shoulders are squared back, stronger and more confident than when he was ten. His hair has gotten darker, and it’s longer, hanging down in his eyes so badly, Emma itches to push it back. It also hangs down so close to his shoulders, that he could pull it back in a low ponytail if he wanted to. His freckles are less noticeable, and his complexion is more tanned, making his azure eyes spark even more than she remembered.

“I hope the Captain doesn’t catch me. I could be whipped for being in his quarters. Though it will be worth it, now that I’ve seen you again.”

He ducks his head as he realizes that he’s been chattering on and on, and Emma feels bad for him because she knows she ought to quit staring and say something already. He pushes his hair back from his face, and when he does, Emma notices his ears. They are slightly pointed, almost elf-like. They’re adorable.

He’s adorable.

He’s also cold, she realizes as he rubs his arms and curls his toes into the hardwood floor. Emma lifts the edge of her blankets. “Come here, you’re freezing.”

Those adorable ears of his turn red at her offer and he gapes for a minute like a fish. “That would be bad form, lass. Liam says I should always be a gentleman.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “First off, if you’re that worried, you’ll definitely be nothing but a gentleman. Second, I can take care of myself. If you get handsy, I’ll just put you in your place like I did with Robby Eddleston.”

“Who’s he?” Killian asks as he slides under the blankets next to her.

“Just a jerk who shoved his tongue halfway down my throat without permission.”

Killian’s eyes darken to a stormy, steel tinted cobalt. “He did what?”

Emma shoves him in the shoulder, “Calm down, jeez. I told you, I can take care of myself.”

“What did you do?”

“Kneed him in the jewels,” she says with a shrug, trying to come off as nonchalant.

He grins at her with obvious pride, “That’s a tough lass.”

They fall silent for a moment, and then Emma finally whispers into the dark, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you came back.”

“No need, love,” he quickly assures her, “though I was worried what had happened to you.”

Emma picks at the comforter spread across their laps, “Martha died of a stroke, and I had to go someplace else.”

Killian reaches for her hand, and her movements still. “I’m sorry. I know you said she was a good woman.”

Emma nods, swallowing down the pain. She turns to him with a quirked eyebrow. “Did you get my bunny?”

“I did, thank you,” he nods, “though I regret to say that he ended up in Davy Jones’ locker. My master at the time called me a baby for having it and tossed it out to sea.”

Emma cringes at the word “master,” but Killian doesn’t miss a beat in the telling of his story. “Davy Jones locker?” she asks. “People really say that where you’re from?”

Killian looks confused. “Seamen do.”

“Oh . . . “ she trails off, her brow furrowed as she tries to make sense of the difference between his world and hers.

“Nevertheless,” he continues, “I can’t tell you how much that small gesture meant to me. It had been so long since I had a plaything. Anyway, how has this new home been?”

Emma looks around her at the still unfamiliar surroundings. “Well, I haven’t been here long, actually. I’ve been bounced around a lot of places since Martha, and most haven’t loved me as well as she did. Except Sarah, until I found out she was crazy.”

“Crazy? How so?”

Emma groans at the memory. “She thought I had magic!”

Killian narrows his eyes. “Why is that crazy?”

“You can’t be serious! I mean, she almost got me killed.”

Killian shrugs, then gestures with his hand at the wardrobe. “I travel to you through an enchanted wardrobe, Emma. And you think magic sounds crazy?”

She huffs out a breath. “Well, okay, yes, you and I . . . that’s hard to explain. But me being like Hermione Granger or something? No way.”

“Hermione who?”

Emma laughs as she cocks an eyebrow at him. “You know, Harry Potter.” He just blinks in confusion. “Books. About wizards and witches.”

“Oh,” he says with a nod, but she can tell he’s still a bit confused, and no wonder. When they were ten, he didn’t even know what a movie was. Emma finds his confusion surprisingly endearing.

Emma leans against Killian’s shoulder with a sigh. “Can we not talk about me and my pathetic life? What’s been going on with you?”

Killian secedes to her wishes and begins to speak. He tells her about discovering rum for the first time at thirteen, and then gambling with dice and cards at fourteen. “I’m pretty good,” he brags.

Emma tilts her head up and grins at him saucily, “I’m sure you are.”

He swipes his tongue along his lower lip in a way that is simply unfair, then continues telling her about letting Liam down at every turn. He weaves a story of a storm at sea where all hands are lost but he and Liam; a story that has her hanging on his every word. This leads to him and his brother joining the Navy at 15 and 17, respectively. Emma turns her head again, her eyes wide.

“Isn’t fifteen awfully young for that?”

Killian shrugs, “Some join as powder monkeys at 11 or 12,” he tells her, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. His words remind her once again that their wardrobe connects two very different worlds. She also still wonders if Killian travels through both space AND time. His world seems so old-fashioned compared to hers. “I’ve caught on fast, though. So has Liam. He’s a lieutenant already, and many of the sailors think he will be the youngest yet to make Captain. I’m still just a cabin boy, but my Captain says it’s only because he likes the fine job I do. He’s talking of promoting me soon. This time, I won’t let my brother down.”

They both fall silent for a moment. Emma’s not sure what to make of their bizarre situation. Emma doesn’t want to contemplate what it means if he’s actually 300 years old or something and no longer living in the 20th century, so she decides to change the subject. She turns her hand so their palms are touching and laces her fingers with his.

“What kinds of things have you had to learn? Like sailor’s knots and star charts and stuff?”

“Aye, and other things, too. I’ve had to learn cartography and geography. And languages, too. Greek was the hardest.”

“You know Greek? Like Zeus and Poseidon and all of that?”

The smile he gives her almost seems teasing, “Of course.”

Emma pokes him in the side and grins when a laugh spills from his lips. “Say something in Greek for me.”

His face turns suddenly earnest as he gazes into her eyes and says, “Omorfi kopella.”

“What does that mean?”

He blushes and ducks his head. His unfairly long lashes brush the top of his cheeks as he answers. “I said you were beautiful.”

Killian brushes her cheek lightly with his thumb and then leans towards her. Emma meets him halfway. His lips are soft and warm against hers, and their touch makes her heart soar in her chest. This is what she had always imagined a kiss should be. It’s nothing like kissing Tom Pierce or Robby Eddleston. Killian tilts his head to deepen the kiss as his fingers thread through her hair, and Emma sighs into it. When he pulls back, his eyes are a midnight blue as he rests his forehead against hers.

“The thoughts I’m having right now aren’t very gentlemanly,” he confesses huskily.

Emma chuckles. “Good,” she tells him, thumbing his lower lip, still moist from their kiss.

A bright shaft of light falls across her bed and Emma groans. Killian cups her face in both his hands. “I wish I could stay, but –“

“Your brother,” she finishes for him. She looks long into his eyes. “I get it. You’re all each other has.”

Killian nods and brushes one more brief kiss across her lips as he rises from the bed. He bows to her, taking her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles. She giggles, and he gives her a slightly roguish smile.

The last thing she sees before he disappears inside the wardrobe is the look of longing in his blue eyes.

“They remind me of Martha’s forget-me-nots,” she thinks to herself, “but sad, too.”

Killian: Age 16

“Get up here, little brother!”

Killian grabs his naval jacket and dashes up the ladder to the deck, grumbling under his breath about it being “younger” brother not “little.” It especially bothers him when Liam is speaking as Lieutenant Jones and not just family. Yet it seems Liam isn’t the only one loose with naval order at the moment. When Killian climbs out of the hold, he finds the rest of the crew chattering excitedly, gazes tilted upward.

“Killian!” Liam calls, racing to his side. “You almost missed the excitement!”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but the captain gave me a new sextant to plot our course, and it uses star charts I’ve never seen before.”

Killian’s eyes scan the ship’s deck, his eyes landing on the men wrestling to hoist an unusual sail. He blinks, thinking surely he must be seeing things, but as the sail rises, he finds it is, in fact, made of feathers. In the center of it is the symbol of a horse with wings.

“This sail,” Captain Roberts announces from his place on the quarter deck, “is made of feathers from the wings of the famous mythical horse Pegasus.”

“Captain!” the gunman shouts breathlessly. “Enemy ships off the port bow!”

The Captain ignores the announcement and turns to Liam Jones. “Lieutenant, plot our course!”

“Should we prep the canons, sir?” the gunman asks, confusion clear on his face.

“There will be no need,” Captain Roberts dismisses with a mysterious smile, “where we are headed, they can not follow.”

Killian glances at his brother, who heads for the ship’s wheel, but Liam looks just as confused as he. Killian rushes to the railing along with several other men of lower rank. They lean forward to watch the cannonballs from the enemy splash with a mighty roar into the water a safe distance away: warning shots.

Killian almost loses his balance as the Jewel of the Realm creaks and sways, his stomach dropping. His eyes widen as he sees the ocean fall away below. He and the rest of the men gasp as the reality sets in - the Jewel is airborne.

“Quit gaping and man your stations!” Captain Roberts shouts. “We’re heading to Neverland!”

There’s a quiet murmur after the announcement, even as the men scatter to their duties. Most have never heard of such a realm, while others whisper excitedly of a place they once visited in their dreams as children. The whispered tales seem far-fetched to Killian: a place where your dreams come true, where you can eat chocolate cake all day long, swim with mermaids, and even fly? Even at ten, he would never have believed it.

Of course, a magic wardrobe that takes you to the girl of your dreams seems far-fetched, he supposes. He grins as he remembers Emma’s lips on his, her soft cheeks beneath his calloused fingers, her silken hair tickling his jaw. He has to find a way to get back to her - hopefully tonight. He isn’t sure what this mysterious mission is all about, but surely the captain’s personal cabin boy won’t be needed for whatever it is. He only has to figure out a way to sneak into Captain Roberts’ quarters when the man isn’t there -

“Killian!”

He startles at the sound of his name, and Liam chuckles, clapping a hand to Killian’s shoulder. “Everyone else is mesmerized by our journey to the skies, yet here you are daydreaming.” Liam cocks his head as he regards his younger brother. “Oh no, it’s a lass, isn’t it?”

Killian blushes as he shrugs and returns to his work. “I’m just thinking.”

“If you say so,” Liam laughs as he tugs on Killian’s arm, “but don’t let your brooding cause you to miss this.”

Killian lets his brother drag him over to the railing. The ship cuts cleanly through the white, billowy clouds, with none of the swaying he’s become used to at sea. The air is crisp and a bit cold this high, and a particularly thick cloud suddenly envelopes them.

“Incredible,” Killian whispers.

“Brother, look,” Liam whispers back.

The clouds part, and the Jones brothers gasp as the world of blue and white becomes dark and gray. An island shimmers in the distance, surrounded by a blue-tinged glow. They lean further over the railing as the ship dips and begins its descent.

The Jewel of the Realm has arrived in Neverland.

******************************************

In front of Killian, over his brother’s shoulder, is an inviting beach with palm trees that sway in the warm breeze. Behind him, the Jewel of the Realm is shrouded in an unnatural fog.

“Don’t worry, little brother, it’s a simple mission.”

Killian doesn’t even bother correcting him on the “little” part. “Aren’t you the least bit suspicious? A ship full of navy men, yet only two boys can fulfill this task?”

Liam narrows his eyes. “At eighteen I am hardly a boy.”

Killian chuckles. “You better hope you’re wrong if the superstitions of the rest of the crew are to be believed.”

Liam scoffs. “I think it has more to do with the simplicity of the task. We get the plant, row back to the ship, and we’re heroes.”

Killian hopes his brother is right. Captain Roberts had Killian in mind all along to retrieve the plant, but it was supposed to be twelve year old Jim Hawkins in the row boat, not Liam. Unfortunately, the lad had broken his leg and had to be left behind at the last port. Killian tries to tell himself that the captain is just being cautious, like Liam said, tries to agree with his older brother that the tales about this place are just stories nursemaids tell to their charges at bedtime. Shadows that take you away to the island in your dreams, pixies who blow their dust on children to make them fly, mermaids that drag lazy children to their deaths - it’s all surely nonsense.

They beach the row boat, and Liam slings his satchel over his shoulder. Inside is a sketch of the plant they are looking for. Killian narrows his eyes at the shadowy jungle before them. How are they ever to find one single plant in all this vegetation?

He and Liam hear the movement at the same exact moment and spin as they draw their swords. Standing before them on the beach is a lad about Killian’s age, dressed in a tunic made of green leaves and breeches crudely made of animal skins. The smile he gives them is full of mischief and something a bit more sinister. Killian’s spine crackles with suspicion. He glances at Liam, and it’s clear his brother doesn’t see the boy as a threat at all as the elder Jones casually lowers his sword.

“Is there a king on this island, boy?”

The lad smirks. “Just me.”

Killian narrows his eyes, and the boy glances his way with a knowing grin. Liam pulls the sketch out of his satchel.

“We’re looking for this plant, do you know it?”

The boy’s eyes widen. “Dreamshade? Of course I know it. Believe me, you don’t want to mess with it. It’s the deadliest poison.”

Liam scoffs. “It isn’t poison, it’s medicine.”

The boy crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head. “Who told you that?”

“My captain.”

“He lied. This captain must be quite the ruthless killer. Nothing causes suffering like dreamshade.”

“What’s your name?” Killian asks.

“Killian, don’t waste your time, he’s just a child.”

Killian’s jaw clenches. “I’m about his age. Am I just a child?”

“My name is Peter,” the boy tells them, a gleeful laugh spilling out of him, “and if you’re tired of them trying to turn you into men, you can come and play with me and my lost boys.”

“We don’t have time for games,” Liam mutters.

“Suit yourself,” Peter tells them with a shrug, “if it’s dreamshade you seek, then you’ll have no trouble finding it.”

Then, with a crowing laugh, and to the utter amazement of both Jones boys, Peter launches himself into the sky and speeds away upon the clouds back into the recesses of the forest.

“Okay,” Killian says slowly, “clearly that particular rumor was true.”

“Let’s just get this plant and get the bloody hell out of here.”

“I agree to the getting out of here part, but maybe we should proceed with caution about the plant.”

Liam’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Surely you don’t believe that boy over our own captain.”

Killian’s eyes narrow. “I’ve never trusted Captain Roberts completely, and besides, Peter is a native of this island. Perhaps we should -”

“Killian,” Liam cuts him off, “you don’t trust anyone.”

The smile his brother gives him softens the words, and Killian smiles back. “I trust you.”

“Then trust me in this,” Liam says with a slap to Killian’s shoulder. “Without order, without discipline to your superiors, this navy life won’t work.”

Killian wonders, not for the first time, if that’s the very reason this navy idea is a better fit for Liam than it is for him. Nevertheless, he sighs in resignation. “I’d follow you anywhere, brother, you know that.”

And with a nod of understanding and trust, the two of them plunge into the deep woods. The jungle is dark and damp, and Killian only has the trust in his brother’s navigational skills and his compass to find the way. Killian grips said compass in his sweaty hand, pushing aside the tendrils of fear that seek to grip his heart. There’s something ominous in this jungle, and he has the feeling they’re being watched.

Liam squints down at the sketch in his hand. “I thought the boy said this plant was abundant here.”

“Perhaps we’ve -”

Before Killian can finish his sentence, a crowing shout fills the air, and filthy boys drop from the branches above them and burst from the thick foliage on all sides. Some have arrows notched to the bows they carry, others have spears resting upon their shoulders, while still others grip daggers in their fists. All of them have smeared their faces with mud and are garbed in either bits and pieces of the nature around them or tattered remains of clothing. They snarl and gnash their teeth more like animals than humans. He and Liam pull out their swords, but they are completely surrounded. Some of the boys only reach as high as Killian’s hip, clearly only eight or nine at the most. The last thing he wants to do is kill children, even if they do appear savage. The circle of boys part to allow their leader through.

“May I introduce you to my lost boys,” Peter grins. “This island is ours with no grown ups to tell us what to do.”

Liam shakes his head. “All we want is the plant. We told you.”

Peter tilts his head as he steps closer. “You’ve already grown up.” He turns to Killian. “But you - you could join my crew. I can tell you like to play.”

For one, dreamlike moment, Killian wants to tell Peter yes. No expectations, no responsibilities - it sounds wonderful. Playing sounds nice, too. He hasn’t played since his mother passed, and when was that? How old was he? He can’t remember anymore. The parents who were supposed to be there for you and protect your innocence left, leaving you at the mercy of rough hands and sinister eyes. Grown ups were the people who stole your childhood, who tossed your plaything into the deep, dark sea. He thinks of the stuffed rabbit Emma gave him, pure white and soft, bobbing farther and farther away from him. His mind can almost see it, with that bright pink ribbon. His heart beats wildly, he sways where he stands, and -

Liam steps closer, his shoulder brushing up against Killian, and it’s that contact that snaps the sixteen year old out of it. Yes, his brother. He can’t let Liam down.

“Never.”

He expects Peter to scoff, get angry, or turn on him. Instead, his gaze takes him in and a slow, sinister smile plays across his face.

“We’ll see.”

Casually, Peter turns to one of his crew and takes the spear the lad holds. With a subtle gesture, he gives the boys a command, and they all relax their postures, holding their weapons loosely. Pan spins the spear playfully as he turns back to Lieutenant Jones.

“You still trust your captain, lieutenant?”

“Always,” Liam insists.

Peter lifts the spear and taps it gently against Liam’s chest. “Let’s test that, shall we? That plant you seek? The tip of this spear has been coated with its sap. Your captain says it is medicine, I say it’s poison. Who should you trust?”

“Liam,” Killian pleads.

Liam lifts his hand to still his brother. “I have no reason to trust you, boy.”

Peter’s eyes flash with a mixture of bloodlust and glee as he slashes the spear brutally across Liam’s chest. Liam cries out and stumbles to his knees, hand to his chest as blood stains his shirt. Killian shouts and falls to the ground beside his brother.

“Just a scratch,” Pan laughs, practically bouncing around them. The lost boys join in his revelry, spinning and giggling maniacally.

Liam groans and falls back, his body shaking. Killian catches him in his lap. Through the gash in his shirt, the wound on Liam’s chest is turning black around the edges and vines of black extend outward, spreading across his torso.

“What’s happening to him?” Killian shouts at Peter.

“Dreamshade poison. I told you. He’ll be dead in minutes.”

Killian goes pale as he looks at the boy in shock. It isn’t so much the casual way he spoke the words, but the spots of red in his eyes and the pleasure curling his lips.

“K-Killian,” Liam gasps, reaching towards his little brother with a trembling hand. Killian takes it and clasps it as tears stream down his face.

“Stay with me, brother,” Killian weeps, then he looks frantically at Peter. “Save him! Please!”

The boy shakes his head. “No one can be saved from dreamshade.”

“Killian,” Liam says again, wincing against the pain, “I’m sorry, little brother. I’m so sor-”

His voice cuts off and he goes limp in Killian’s arms, his hand slipping out of its hold and falling to the ground.

“No!” Killian screams. “No, no, no!”

He cradles Liam’s still form to his chest, rocking back and forth. Sobs wrack his body. He doesn’t know if the lost boys are still there or what they are doing. The whole world could fall apart and he wouldn’t notice.

“It’s a shame, really. I tried to warn him.”

Killian’s head snaps up at the sound of Pan’s voice. Anger fills his veins, but when he speaks, only despair colors his words. “He was all that I had.”

“I know,” Pan replies in a voice that almost sounds sympathetic. He crouches down next to where Killian still clutches his brother’s form. “And now that he’s gone, you finally have the look that all my lost boys share. The look of someone who is completely and utterly alone. An orphan.”

********************************************

Killian watches Pan through the flickering flames of the campfire. The branch of a sapling rests in Killian’s lap, and his fingers twist a vine around each end to make a bow. Pan plays a song on his pipes, and several of the lost boys dance about to its melody. The song calls Killian, urging him to cast aside his pain and join the dance.

But he won’t let himself.

He squints up at the sun. He guesses it’s been about thirty three hours and . . . around twenty minutes since the lost boys tossed Liam’s body into the sea. Thirty three hours and twenty minutes without Liam. His entire life, Liam has been there, and now he’s gone.

Yesterday at dawn, he snuck down to the beach. The rowboat was still there, but the Jewel of the Realm was no longer a hulking form shrouded in the fog. He had taken the rowboat out - not for long and not far - and the ship was nowhere near shore. Surely they hadn’t flown away on the Pegasus sail. Surely they would wait longer than that before giving up on the Jones brothers. He guessed they had simply sailed out of sight or found a cove to hide in. Yet despite his hopes, it’s obvious that his captain cares little for mere boys. No search party has been sent, and Killian doubts it ever will.

Peter reminds him often that Liam’s death is the captain’s fault. The fault of every grown up on that ship, actually. They never cared about you. They never believed in you. Did you really think they would let you be a hero? There’s truth to Pan’s words, Killian knows this, and he’d be lying if he said hatred for his captain didn’t burn within his breast. But he’ll also never forget that it was Pan who sliced the spear laced with dreamshade across his brother’s chest. He’ll never forget Pan’s gleeful smile of satisfaction or the spots of red in his eyes as Liam’s blood seeped his naval shirt.

Killian eyes Pan across the fire now. The dance has reached a feverish pitch, and Killian already knows, in just thirty three hours as a lost boy, that the dance will soon fall apart into a wrestling match. Killian also knows that his only hope for survival is to play the part of a lost boy. Yet despite the naval blue ripped at the knees, despite the way he crowed when they set his naval jacket on fire, despite the mud smeared across his cheeks, Killian will never stop hating Peter Pan.

“Has Peter showed you how to lace that with dreamshade?”

Killian turns to the boy who has plopped down next to him. They all have names, but he can’t remember this one. His black hair is curled tightly against his head, his teeth seem white despite their filthiness against his dark skin. Freckles are barely visible across the bridge of his nose, and his brown eyes seem different somehow from the other boys.

“You forgot my name already didn’t, you?” he chuckles. “It’s Starkey.”

“Right,” Killian mutters, biting off the end of the vine that holds the arrowhead in place.

“There’s a trick to the dreamshade so you don’t nick yourself,” Starkey continues despite Killian’s unfriendliness. “Pan doesn’t always warn the boys. Thinks it’s funny.”

Killian casts a curious glance Starkey’s way. There’s definitely something in those mahogany eyes . . .

“He’s a bit sadistic, isn’t he?” Starkey asks, and Killian gets the impression he’s testing the waters somehow. The lad swallows, glancing nervously to where Peter is crowing over the inevitable wrestling match. “All boys but one grow up,” Starkey almost whispers.

Killian’s heart beats faster as he stares into the flames. “You mean,” he whispers back, not looking at his companion, “the others do?”

“I’m near thinning time,” Starkey replies, “so are Nibs and . Some are oblivious though. Ruffio, for example, he’ll no doubt stay faithful to the bitter end. I hate the look in their eyes when we turn on them.”

Killian turns his head in shock, but Starkey is slipping away into the jungle already. Starkey has obviously told him these things for a reason. But why?

As the next few weeks go by, he and Starkey have more whispered conversations, and Killian is surprised how quickly they become friends. Starkey’s tale is similar to his own, having spent time as a slave on a schooner. The only difference is that his parents were murdered and he was kidnapped, a trauma that Killian is sadly able to imagine now that Liam bled out in his arms.

Slowly, as the days go by, Starkey brings more boys into his confidence: Nibs, first, then Jooks, Noodler, Cecco, and Curly.

A hunting crew returns with a boar to roast, and that night there is a feast and a wild rumpus to follow. Though there is no alcohol, the whole thing reminds Killian of how he used to act when he’d drink too much rum. Killian feasts, he dances, even plasters a smile upon his face, but it’s all a show for Peter Pan. He can’t stop thinking of his brother for one, but there’s also Starkey’s cryptic words : thinning time.

Killian plops down, exhausted, and grabs a coconut to guzzle some of its milk. As he swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, he sees Pan at his side, leaning forward and scrutinizing his face. It takes all of Killian’s willpower not to startle back. For a long moment Peter studies him, and it causes a chill to run down Killian’s spine. When Pan finally speaks, his voice holds barely contained anger and a trace of shock.

“You have a mocking kiss in the corner of your mouth.”

Killian blinks. “Wh-what are you talking about?” His mind goes to Emma, of course, not that she is ever far from his thoughts. Especially now with Liam gone, he longs for the wardrobe in Captain Roberts’ cabin and fears he may never see it again.

“There,” Pan accuses, pointing with a dirty finger, “perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner. How did I not see it before?”

Killian glances around nervously as the party noises have gone silent. Several lost boys have drawn closer, concern furrowing their brows.

“He has a kiss, Peter?” one of the boys asks.

“Kisses are dangerous!” another one gasps.

“Yes,” Peter answers, his eyes narrowing with a faint glimmer of red, “a mocking kiss, and one he’s very fond of too.”

Killian swallows hard as he rises to his feet. The lost boys seem to be closing the noose around him, and he looks around frantically. There seems to be no choice but to fess up, hope for mercy, though Peter doesn’t seem the merciful type.

“So I’ve kissed lasses. So what? I’m 16!”

“No,” Pan hisses, “not lasses. One lass. A special lass.”

Killian clenches both fists, his face flushing at the way Pan spits out the words. Emma is special, and he won’t deny it. Ever.

“We don’t like girls,” Peter snarls, “they fancy themselves your mother, making you wash before meals and putting you to bed at a proper time.”

Killian narrows his eyes. “Um . . . I think you’re a bit confused.”

It was the wrong thing to say. He couldn’t help his sass, has rarely been able to help it.

“Your brother was obvious. He’d already chosen to grow up. But you, you tricked me. You can’t be a lost boy with that kiss always mocking me.”

Killian knows a heartbeat before it happens that the lost boys will fall upon him. What he doesn’t expect is to find his old naval sword in his hand or for Starkey, Nibs, and several others to fall in line just behind him. He glances at Starkey right before the two sides clash, and the other boy winks at him knowingly.

Those on Killian’s side are all older, but they are fewer in number. And Starkey was right, not all the other boys close to thinning time are willing to turn on their leader. Rufio is the oldest and fiercest fighter, his loyalty to Pan clear in his gaze and his willingness to die. Killian guesses he is seventeen, and he’s broader and taller than Killian. Nevertheless, Killian has naval training with a sword. He holds back, however, unwilling to slaughter little boys, no matter the situation. Yet when he finds himself face to face, blade to blade, with Rufio, something shifts. Pan may not want his boys to grow up, but Rufio fights like a man. Unrefined and a bit desperate, but with strength and muscle behind it.

All skirmishes cease as the sound of the blades clashing draws everyone’s attention. Ruffio fights dirty while Killian has been taught to fight like a gentleman. At first, Rufio’s style seems to be winning when he trips Killian then flings sand in his face. Yet Killian’s training has given him muscle memory, and even with his eyes burning, he acts instinctively.

Killian’s blade pierces Rufio’s heart. The boy’s eyes widen in shock before he hits the ground, blood spreading quickly across his chest. The lost boys are silent. Chest heaving, Killian turns towards Pan, lifting his blood-stained sword.

“I have a crew of my own now,” he tells the demon child, “and we’re leaving.”

Pan narrows his eyes, and before Killian can register what’s happening, he’s taken flight and making circles around him. Pan lands just behind Killian and startles him when he speaks.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow mutiny in my ranks.”

Killian turns to face Pan, ready for a fight, but is unprepared when Peter plunges his hand into his chest. Killian gasps and chokes as Pan squeezes. Then he tugs and with a sharp pain, yanks Killian’s heart out. Killian’s mouth hangs open in shock as he presses his hand to his chest. There’s no blood. How is there no blood?

Pan lifts a glowing red object and holds it in Killian’s face - his heart. It pulses, bright red, with tiny swirls of dark flitting through it.

“Look at this, Killian Jones, you have a touch of darkness in your heart.”

Killian doesn’t know what to do, he can scarcely comprehend what is happening. He’s heard rumors of witches and warlocks who could steal a man’s heart. He never expected it of this boy, however. Killian drops to his knees as Pan squeezes his heart.

“I could crush it right now and end you,” Pan mocks gleefully, “but since you attempted to steal my crew, I’m thinking of a more fitting punishment.”

Pan leans forward and slams Killian’s heart back into his chest. In the same moment, Peter’s other hand snatches Killian’s abandoned sword and he brings it down upon Killian’s wrist, slicing off his left hand. Killian screams in pain, holding his severed appendage to his chest as he falls backwards. Starkey catches him and helps him to his feet, Nibs supports him on the other side.

Pan kicks at the lifeless hand where it lies upon the ground. “They say a vein runs from the heart right down to the tip of your left hand. Fitting don’t you think?”

Pan and his loyal followers melt into the jungle, and Killian doubles over in pain. “Leave me,” he grits out to Starkey and Nibs.

But the two former lost boys in addition to the few others who had stood at Killian’s back refuse to leave him. They drag him through the jungle in the opposite direction of the rest of Pan’s crew.

***************************************

Killian Jones stands at the top of the highest peak in Neverland. The last month has been a time of healing for him. Healing from losing his hand. Healing from the loss of his brother.

But the thirst for revenge? That hasn’t waned.

Killian looks down at the curve of metal at the end of his left arm. His jaw clenches as he gazes upon it, then back out to sea. His new crew had taken him to a couple of fairies - Tinker Bell and Tiger Lily. They had enough pixie dust between them to help him heal, though it was still a long, slow process. No amount of light magic, however, could give him back his hand.

“Hook?”

Killian turns to where Starkey stands further down the hill. That’s what his crew calls him now: Hook. His blue eyes gaze back out to sea at a familiar speck of white on the horizon.

“Get the crew together,” he tells his faithful friend. “We have ourselves a ship.”

**********************************************

For only the second time in his life, Killian Jones has bloodied his sword. Killing Rufio had been largely in self defense, and he had felt sick as he watched the boy’s life blood stain the ground. He doesn’t feel sick now as he strides amongst the naval crew he used to be a part of. He and his new crew had fought ruthlessly, and now their remaining enemies have been tied and gagged.

“If you don’t want to die today,” Killian announces, “you can pledge allegiance to me, Captain Hook.”

A choking laugh escapes the gagged mouth of the Jewel of the Realm’s captain. Killian’s eyes flash when he hears it, and he strides to Captain Roberts. He leans down and yanks the gag from the man’s mouth with his hook.

“Is something funny?” he snaps.

“You are still nothing but a boy.”

Killian leans close to the man’s ear and speaks to him in a whisper. “Really? Is that why you sent my brother and I like lambs to the slaughter? You sent mere boys to retrieve your poison?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you joined the navy.” Roberts turns and spits in Killian’s face.

Behind Hook, his new crew of former lost boys gasp in shock. Their new leader stands erect, calmly wiping the spittle away with his handkerchief.

“What about loyalty, Roberts? When my brother and I didn’t promptly return, you sailed away and left us.” Killian clenches his jaw. “I see Hawkins is back on board. Were you returning to send him to this accursed island? Still a coward?”

Killian doesn’t need the man to answer; he knows it to be true. Hawkins stands behind him, shoulder to shoulder with Starkey, his arms crossed as he coldly assesses his captain. Killian catches the boy’s eye and Jim nods his approval before Killian hefts his sword and plunges it into Captain Robert’s shoulder. The man flings his head back and screams. Seeing the blood spill upon the deck as he pulls the sword back reminds Killian of Liam, and filled with rage, he stabs the man in the other shoulder. Whimpers color the man’s grunts of pain.

“What do you want?” he manages to choke out.

Killian raises his hook and plunges it into the man’s chest. “I want my brother back, you son of a bitch.” He twists his hook viciously before yanking it out, and the man’s lifeless body crumples to the deck.

Silence reigns on the deck as Captain Hook calmly straightens, wiping his bloody hook clean on his handkerchief. “Raise the black flag!” he shouts to Starkey. “This ship is now the Jolly Roger!”

Tagging:  @snowbellewells​  @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @snidgetsafan @ohmakemeahercules @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms@delirious-latenight-laughs

[justlookatthosesausages]

“In the eye of the storm” ◊◊◊◊ a post-Frozen 2 fanfic ◊◊◊◊ CHAPTER 4: In the fog

Elsa woke up to the soothing feeling of an opened glazed window and the heavenly sight of her girlfriend laying against the frame. Honeymaren was looking at Arendelle's landscape from the guest room, enjoying a calm break in the stormy weather to admire the mountains without getting showered by the rain. She also enjoyed the view when she turned at the sound of Elsa stirring and stretching in the bed, her ice night gown sparkling in the morning light. The blonde's short hair was just as messy as her long black one. The eternal flyaway lock came in front of her eyes, and the Snow Queen blinked tiredly as she passed a hand in her hair and fixed her bangs with a layer of ice.

"Join me?" Proposed Honeymaren.

Elsa went out of bed with a smile, and walked to her before kissing her in the neck. She nested her chin on her shoulder, circling Honeymaren's waist with her arms.

"Hi you."

"Hi." Laughed the brunette, kissing her temple.

She pointed at the village below.

"Look, we can see the unity statue from here."

"Yeah, I like to look at it sometimes."

"I think it's a good symbol to take example from in this time of crisis, don't you think? Our people together to face the storm and find a solution to it."

The blonde smiled. "You're very poetic so early in the morning. I could go back to sleep with that voice of yours that you use when telling stories to Sami children."

Honeymaren giggled and rubbed Elsa's cheek.

"You know, we could have camped outside. You're used to going on hikes, and the weather isn't really a problem."

Elsa hummed on her shoulder. Her hot breath in Honeymaren's neck underlined how the last part of her remark was true.

"I prefer when we sleep in the guest room."

The brunette smirked and turned to her.

"Having a taste for luxury, ex-Queen?"

Elsa poked her lover's ribs at her sarcasm. "No, I just prefer to give you the best comfort."

Honeymaren rolled her eyes, but knew she was sincere.

"Do I need to remind you that we slept countless times in Ahtohallan? I can handle a glacier, and a magical one furthermore, so I can handle a little storm."

"This is not a little storm." Warned Elsa, changing the topic unconsciously.

Her arms had even tightened a bit around Honeymaren's waist, and the latter patted her hands.

"It's okay. Relax. No pressure. No duties."

Elsa muttered something on her shoulder. Honeymaren knew her too well, sometimes it was unfair.

She then detached from her body to turn and look at her. "Honey, you said yesterday that I should relieve myself from tensions, but you should be the one to get rest. Yelena is going tough on you lately."

"I still have a lot of work to do. And she wants to pass me all her knowledge."

"And being the next tribe leader is a lot of responsibilities..."

"Which I willingly engaged myself into." Insisted Honeymaren, her eyes determined.

Two big azure blue ones saw that expression, and Elsa grinned.

"You're going to be the best."

"I know." Chuckled Honeymaren.

She noticed how high the sun was in the sky already, despite the clouds hiding it. "Now come on, we're going to be laughingstock if we arrive at breakfast after Eydis."

They closed the glazed window behind them and changed. Before passing the door, Elsa looked at herself in the mirror near the wall, and Honeymaren tickled her from behind. The blonde lost her balance and laughed out loud, leaving an echo behind her as they went to the corridor.

The surface of the mirror covered up with frost from the spot where Elsa had hung on to. 

=======

Honeymaren was right when she mused about the Northuldra and Arendellians uniting to find a solution to the magic storm. Elsa and Anna got very busy with only that in mind.

Several days had passed. The sisters didn't talk much, which was paradoxical for a period in which they actually were very supportive of each other. They had different duties on different places of the castle. Elsa was searching for spots all around the Arendelle village and surroundings where she could meditate and try to sense Nokk's or Gale's energy to understand their behavior, while Anna was sending messengers to neighboring kingdoms all around the country to check their administrative decisions and be updated to offer her help. At each meal, they exchanged on the other's progress, then returned to their activities.

Kristoff admired their work, seeing how they had been doing their best for the past days. However, he saw them less lately, and at a time when he had no duty and his daughter was busy in a math lesson, he went to visit Sven in the stables. He didn't expect to meet Honeymaren there.

"Hey, how are you? What are you doing here?"

He noticed that she was feeding some hay to a reindeer, and that the reindeer in question was obviously Sven.

"Oh, you're..."

"How's Sven?" Asked the Northuldra.

He gulped. "Why ask that?"

The brunette looked at him with comprehension. "There's only the two of us here, Kristoff. You can drop the lies."

The King rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

"Not... Fine."

They both turned to the reindeer, who was sleeping quietly. Only...

"He was sleeping when you arrived?" Asked the blond.

Honeymaren nodded. "Yes, and I've come here early this morning when I saw something was wrong."

So she knew. Who was giving it away? Sven or him?

"Kristoff..."

She put the pitchfork back against the wall and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"...Reindeers rarely live beyond 20 years."

"Yes, I know. Elsa told me on her last visit. We spent a long time talking about it. She knows all about wildlife, now, uh?" He smiled.

"She does." Smiled Honeymaren. "I've never met someone as curious as her. And I have Ryder as a brother!"

They both laughed. Kristoff cleared his throat.

"Is is true that you have a... Ceremony for..." He gulped again. "Deceased reindeers?"

"Yes. We do. First because in Northuldra culture, we consider that each living life is important, but also because a lot of us have been close to a particular reindeer helping them in daily tasks for years or on which they like to ride. We know what you feel."

There was a blank. She let that sink, and continued.

"When the moment will come, we'll give Sven the ceremony he deserves."

"It... It would be an honor if Ryder and you..."

"Sure."

He heavily sighed and sat on a stack of hay. Honeymaren joined him.

"I've known him all my life. He's not just a buddy, he's like... My best friend."

"Like a brother." Smiled Honeymaren.

Kristoff appreciated her precision. "Yes."

"How about you talk about it to Ryder on the next time you come visit us in the Forest? I'm afraid it will feel weird if you bring the topic during game night."

"Yeah, good call."

They laughed.

A few moments later, Honeymaren explained that now she was sure that everyone in her Arendelle family was alright, starting from Elsa and including Sven, it was time for her to go back to the Forest.

Elsa also insisted that she had duties to attend as well as the next tribe leader, and when her reindeer was ready to do the way back, they all assembled at the castle's entrance. Anna took advantage of Elsa and Kristoff talking to have a private talk with Honeymaren.

"I'm sorry again that Elsa shut you out and didn't tell you she came here."

The Northuldra chuckled. "Don't apologize for her. She apologized herself in her own way."

"Okay. You know, she uses this mechanism... Pushing people away... To actually protect them. It looks like she wants to be alone and reject people who can help her, but in fact..."

"...It's the opposite. She's craving for care." Finished Honeymaren.

Anna smiled. "You know her just as much as I do now. I'm so happy that being in couple helps in confessions."

The redhead's eyes stung with emotion. "Honeymaren, I'm deeply glad that you're her girlfriend and such a caring person and always here for her. You're the person she always needed, unconsciously."

"Oh, she's very conscious of that need, let me tell you." Winked Honeymaren.

The redhead's jaw dropped with shock at the innuendo, and they both laughed.

Anna retrieved her breath. "Anyway, her happiness is what counts most for all of us."

She put a hand on the Northuldra's shoulder. "She's always been happy since the day we stepped into the Forest and she met you. She's finally living the life she deserved."

"I fully agree." Grinned Honeymaren.

They hugged, and the others approached. Anna gave her enough chocolates to feed the whole tribe, and Elsa a kiss big enough to steal her oxygen. With an amused gasp and a pat on the blonde's shoulder, the Northuldra stepped back and climbed on her reindeer.

Elsa looked fondly at her girlfriend.

"Take care."

"No, you take care." Smiled Honeymaren.

Her loving gaze then became serious.

"Who knows what the Spirits might be up to."

Elsa nodded. She also rarely added a word after Honeymaren's brief wise sentences.

As if to give her courage, the reindeer licked the Snow Queen's face, and she chuckled and wiped her cheek.

"Yeah, I was happy to see you too, Vibeke."

She stroked the reindeer, nervously passing a hand along the Northuldra motives on the harness.

"Keep an eye on the tribe while I'm still busy here, okay? And tell Yelena I'm alright."

"I will", promised Honeymaren, finding her bashfulness cute as always.

"I was talking to the reindeer."

"Oh."

Honeymaren then lifted an eyebrow.

"...Wait, you're teasing me, right?"

"Of course I was talking to you, silly!" Laughed Elsa.

"You're such a dork." Sighed Honeymaren, shaking her head.

"11 years and you still fall for those tricks."

"Well, you do talk to animals all the time. So excuse me."

Elsa swatted her leg, and Honeymaren laughed before tapping her ankles on the reindeer belly to make it gallop.

"See you later, snømus!" Exclaimed the Northuldra, her voice echoing in the Arendelle's castle courtyard.

"See you later, Honey." Smiled Elsa as she looked at her lover go.

=======

Honeymaren had left thinking Elsa was alright; however, she wasn't. She had been meditating for days - sometimes even in crazy places that drove the others nuts when Anna and Kristoff learned about them, such as the rooftops or on an ice island in the middle of the fjord - and she still couldn't grasp Nokk's or Gale's energy. She could sense they were there, somewhere in the sky, yet nothing precise. Not only did that made her sad and worried, but she couldn't help feeling like a fraud. Sensing the other Spirits and preventing them from putting people in danger was literally her job, and she was failing miserably at it. Every time she told Anna that her new meditation session had been in vain, her optimistic sister replied that everything would end well eventually. Nevertheless, Elsa had more of a pessimistic personality, and the first day after Honeymaren was gone, she started to tell herself that she wasn't worth of Ahtohallan's blessing. What if she could never get why the Spirits were doing such a thing? What if she could never bring them back in the Enchanted Forest? What if the storm kept going eternally for generations and generations? Elsa shivered from this idea, and twitched on the top of the clock tower where she had been sitting in lotus position. She sighed and opened her eyes, looking at the dark horizon. The sun wasn't even setting yet and the sky was already gloomy, sometimes pouring with rain and sometimes bringing a blowing wind in the village. Sometimes both. At the moment, it was the first option, which was why Elsa had picked the clock tower, for it had a roof under which she could shelter. It also was the only remaining place in Arendelle that was high enough to stare at the horizon and could maybe help her sense the Spirits better, yet it changed nothing. She looked at the castle in the distance through the curtain of rain, and sighed again before standing up.

"There's no point. I should go home."

As she went down the stairs of the tower, she realized that maybe she should just stay in Arendelle and never dare to return to the Forest. Maybe that her home wasn't there, after all. Did she even deserve to come back to the woods alone, empty-handed, with no improvement?

She made her way through the village, not even walking fast, letting her thoughts and shame go down on her like the rain.

After entering the castle, Elsa went to Anna's study and was about to knock on the door, but it was, as usual, slightly open.

The redhead however seemed to be deep into work, and she heard Elsa's presence only when the Snow Queen's wet ice sandals tapped against the wood floor.

"Oh, Elsa!" Exclaimed Anna, smiling as she saw her elder after jerking her head up.

"Uhm... Can we talk?"

"That's great, I actually have something to tell you too."

"Can I go first?" Asked Elsa, clenching her hands.

Anna was a bit disappointed to not start with her news, but encouraged her, putting her pen back in her ink pot.

"Yeah, do say."

"I still got nothing."

"Uh?"

"I meditated, again, and again, and tried to sense their feelings, but... It's all blur. It's like they're really, really far, but at the same time I can tell that they're just above us. It's really weird, and I hate that I'm not able to understand why."

"It's okay." Smiled her younger. "Surely you felt a thing or two?"

Elsa shrugged, disappointed with herself. "Maybe. I felt urge, dread, anger, and they're both giving all their magical energy in what seems like a swirl, a mix of water and wind. I know this sounds stupid, because it's basically a storm. I could also feel that they're reckless."

Anna stared at her. She wanted to ask: 'Those are emotions you also felt from them days ago, has nothing changed?' but remained mute.

Elsa kept going. "I have nothing else to say. All I sense, coming from them, is danger. So, in summary, as long as I don't know what's going on, my best advice is to stay indoors and not do anything."

A long silence passed. Anna cleared her throat.

"Well... The thing I wanted to talk to you about is..."

She bit her lip.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What...?" Muttered Elsa.

"A messenger from Hitiheimr came in this afternoon to tell me that the decision had been made official, all leaders are awaited there to discuss—"

"Did you listen to anything of what I just said?" Cut Elsa.

Anna closed her mouth, and realized that ironically, on the other hand, Elsa hadn't been listening to her sentence. She frowned.

"I did, but this is of the most importance..."

"I'm telling you to stay inside and you're telling me that you're going out tomorrow?"

"This is important." Insisted Anna.

She showed a paper that was on her desk. "All kingdoms of the country have decided on common agreement to gather in the eastern lands of Hitiheimr to have a national meeting and take decisions about this storm."

"I just told you my decision!"

"No, not yours." Tried to clarify Anna without sounding blunt. "This is about royal decisions. What the kingdoms have to do to face the problem."

"This is just dumb."

The redhead blinked and frowned. "Excuse me?"

"This is ridiculously risky!"

"And it's just as ridiculous to stay inside and do nothing!" Jolted Anna.

"Actually, I'd prefer that you don't do anything!" Threw Elsa, blushing in irritation.

"What?! Oh, come on, you're just angry because you've been nervous those last days. Look at you! You're the only person in the world who gets upset after meditating."

"Because the world needs me right now. And I don't have solutions."

"And that's because you can't find any that you're offended, I get it! But don't you think that the world needs me, as well? Are you saying that I can't help too? That I can't bring solutions?"

"No, Anna, you're confused."

"I'm the one who's confused?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me." Warned Elsa.

"No, look, I have all the rights to raise my voice at you. I've been just as distressed as you those past days to find a solution to move on in this magic storm and when I finally make things go forward, this is how you support me? Look, I have to—"

"There's no way you're leaving."

"No, I have to, Elsa, it's my du—"

"This is too dangerous."

Anna gritted her teeth at her interruptions, which were driving her mad.

"I have to go because—"

"Why didn't you even tell me a messenger had come this afternoon?" Frowned the blonde.

Anna exploded.

"You were out meditating, Elsa! Why was I supposed to do? Find you? Apparently I couldn't, for I see that you don't want me to step outside!"

"You know I meant that because I care about you." Grunted Elsa, not liking her tone.

"Because you're afraid I would what, fly away in the storm? No need to smother me, Elsa. I can take care of myself."

She saw that her sister was about to open her mouth, so she kept going.

"Also, your point doesn't stand. We went to investigate about the storm a few days ago, and you seemed fine about it!"

"Because like you say, it was days ago!" Exclaimed Elsa, now making big gestures of the arms and hands like her sister was doing on the other side of the desk. "Also, I was there to protect you just in case something goes wrong."

"Nothing will go wrong. The land is barely one day of travel from here."

"But—"

Anna was frowning now and she suddenly slammed both her hands on the desk. "That's enough, Elsa. If you prevent me from going, I swear to Odin that I'll give an order to the guards to stop you."

"You have no right to—"

"I definitely do", yelled Anna. "I'm the QUEEN!"

Now her fist was banging the table. "Which is exactly why I'm going to attend this meeting, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"FINE!"

Elsa's yell echoed against the walls and she left the room in a fury, nearly bumping into her niece who was about to enter in the study.

Anna slumped into her chair, sighing and massaging the top of her nose.

The little girl blinked at Elsa's exit, confused, but focused back on why she was coming.

"Mama..."

"Not now, Eydis, please."

"It won't be long, I promise." Said the princess, as it wasn't the first time that she interrupted her mother doing royal activities.

The redhead sighed lengthily.

"Go on."

"It's about a book."

Anna took a long breath in, trying to remain calm and not show anger or sadness to her daughter. She gave her a warm smile.

"Sorry, Eydis, I can't tell you a story right now. I'm busy, you see?"

"It's not for a story! Can you give me the one on runes again?"

Anna frowned and looked at her between two fingers of her hand. "Again? Fine, I'll get it for you, it's in the library. But I told you already, the runes on grandfather and grandmother's headstones stand for—"

"I know, I know." Grumbled the little girl with a typical childish annoyed tone. "It's not for that. I want to learn new ones."

Anna was too tired to ask why she needed it, and rubbed her temple. "Alright, I'll get it for you once I finish my work."

Eydis stepped further, and then around her desk, observing her mother. "Are you hurt at the head?"

"No. Maybe... Sort of." Exhaled Anna.

The girl jumped to sit on her mother's lap, and the latter huffed of surprise, but then smiled as the girl idly played with the stamp left on her pile of letters. A silence passed.

"Mama... Why are you working at this time?"

Anna looked at her desk above her daughter's head.

"I have to go in a neighbor land tomorrow to have a national meeting with other kingdoms, sweetheart. I need to make sure everything is set before I do."

"Oh, Queen stuff is so boring."

"Not always." Assured Anna with a chuckle.

She bent to blow a raspberry on Eydis' cheek, and the girl cackled with laughter.

Silence followed as the princess silently turned the stamp in her hand. Anna's pen scratched a paper calmly, and her daughter looked at the door.

"Where did Auntie go?"

The Queen winced.

"I don't know, Eydis. Sometimes it's best that way."

"Why did she leave then?" Asked the child.

"Well, you see, I told her exactly what I told you about the meeting. And... She doesn't really like that news."

"Why?" Frowned the princess.

Anna smiled. "People react differently to the same things. For example, Auntie Elsa cares about me more than anyone in the world, and she needs time."

=======

On the first days of the storm, Elsa thought that Anna would enrage to not be able to go outside because of the weather, yet she didn't; the redhead had matured through the years since she became Queen and a mother. She now enjoyed taking care of administrative things and staying indoors.

However, in the day that followed, Elsa had never wanted more for Anna to stay within the walls of the castle.

As Anna was preparing the harness of her horse with the help of a groom, Elsa kept pacing left and right in the corridor in front of the box.

The horse followed her moves with curiosity, wondering why the woman was walking like that and clenching her hands.

"Do you really have to go today?" Asked Elsa.

Anna inhaled discretely to conjure the needed patience as her sister had asked this question way too many times in the past hours.

"Yes, I have to go today. I'm expected."

"At least go on Sven!"

"No, he's getting too old." Reminded Anna, still not looking at her.

Elsa wasn't really looking at her either anyway, staring down as she kept turning and turning.

"Are you still thinking about pros and cons?" Guessed Anna when she saw her mood. "You seem to feel guilty about something."

The blonde sighed.

"I'm sorry for the dispute we had yesterday. I guess I was envious to see that you succeeded in your objective, your task, your duty... While I've done nothing."

Anna turned to Elsa with wisdom. "Which is why I have to attend this council. This is the part I play in, you understand that I have to do it."

The blonde passed her hands in her hair. Why was her sister always right?

"I know it's the safety part that worries you." Stated Anna as she stroked the horse's neck. "Remember, Mattias will be with me. Do you doubt of his dedication?"

"Of course not!" Exclaimed her elder.

Destiny had proven many times to Elsa that Mattias would do anything for his country, especially for Anna whom he had seen in the most dreadful situations and admired to no end, willing to give his life to make her safe.

"It's not that." Muttered Elsa. "I'm scared of this storm because it's magical, and... It's not something I can stop, or handle, or even predict. You've seen how it got worse every passing day."

"Another reason why I must leave now. The faster the council happens, the faster I'll come back."

Elsa was about to reply, but Anna really had the best arguments. Was it because she knew Elsa by heart now and figured that reason and logic worked well on her, or was it thanks to her experience in diplomatic missions? Surely both.

"Then be your best self."

"I will." Winked Anna, making the horse brush twirl in the air.

"If anything would happen..."

Elsa gulped, looking down.

"Anna, if I lost you, I think I'd lose myself."

The redhead's eyes widened.

As the groom gave directions to the horse to walk out of the box, Elsa stepped aside to let them pass, and she went near the wall, staying in the shadows.

When she lifted her eyes, Anna was launching herself to her for a big hug.

Kristoff stepped in the stables to join his wife and sister-in-law, who were giving each other the longest hug he had seen in a while. Giving them a moment alone, he saluted Mattias with a nod as he walked by him with his horse, also ready to leave.

When the sisters finally split up, Elsa fidgeted with the cords of Anna's coat. She distractedly passed a hand along the reindeer fur.

She remembered the year when she had offered this coat to Anna on Yule celebration. All the family was united that day, and the redhead had managed to hug Honeymaren and her at the same time in a tearful embrace, to thank them for such a gift. The whole coat was tailor made and customized based on Anna's favorite colors and motifs, and the couple had entirely hand stitched it. The Snow Queen passed a distracted finger on the green seam, then realized that she was losing herself in a daydream. She cleared her throat.

"You, uhm... You shouldn't wear your coat this tight. Riding will make you warm from the effort, and after a while, you'll feel cramped."

Anna smiled tenderly. "Okay. Thanks for the advice, Northuldra."

She loosened the cords a bit, and went to her mount to tie one last bag she had left on a bale of straw. The blonde stood still where she was in the stable's corridor, like she incited her sister to stay here.

"Do you really have to go?" Asked timidly Elsa in one last try.

In that moment, a flash came to her mind, and she realized that she had asked this sentence the exact same way to her parents as the last thing before they were gone... Forever. Instinctively and defensively, she mentally threw that fact at the back of her brain.

Anna sighed slightly and stopped attaching her bag to her horse. She gestured to Mattias to take care of it before she turned around and walked back to her elder, and the general nodded with a comprehensive smile.

Anna's eyes were two determined teal blue gems as she made her way to her sister, her gaze right into hers.

"Elsa, for the last time: it's my duty. As the leader of a kingdom."

"Queendom", corrected Kristoff with humor. "I technically do less than you."

Anna chuckled. She turned back to Elsa.

"As the Queen of Arendelle, I have to go check on neighboring lands to ensure that everything is fine for everyone. This is not only geopolitics, it's also humanitarian. There's no way I'm staying here and don't act to help."

Her voice was strong, clearly ordering Elsa to stop trying. She had a remarkable royal tone. In any other context, Elsa would have been filled with pride for her younger, yet since the day before, all of her soul was roaming with fear. She was so worried for Anna that she couldn't tell if it was a bad feeling or paranoia.

The blonde searched for help in the King's eyes, but Kristoff seemed way more confident about Anna's life than Elsa was, and it made her even more nervous. Was nobody going to be on her side? Why was no one preventing her from leaving?

Elsa could picture all the worst happening to her little sister, and she bit her lip.

"But what if something goes wrong? We can't communicate via Gale, and postal services have stopped with the storm..."

"I'll be alright." Insisted Anna.

The Snow Queen wasn't convinced, shyly looking down. It somehow reminded Anna of her own daughter when she received an instruction she didn't like and yet knew she had to respect. Why did Elsa look like a child sometimes? The redhead smirked internally.

"Hey."

Her elder only muttered a 'hmm' as an answer, not lifting her face. Anna bent her head to catch her gaze. She knew Elsa's coping mannerisms more than anyone.

"You know I'll be fine. It's a few days journey, with a path that is way less dangerous than the one leading to the Enchanted Forest."

"But—"

"Let me finish. I'm expected tomorrow at noon when the council starts. If we don't attend, they'll know. It's more than safe."

The blonde hated how perfect those points were. She now pouted, knowing she couldn't add anything else. Anna saw it but hid her amusement.

She remained serious and breathed in and out with a sad smile.

"Elsa. You have to let me go."

The blonde's eyes stared elsewhere to hide her emotion, and she eventually blinked her tears away. After a while, she sighed and assembled enough courage to look at her sister with a determined look.

"Okay. I'll give you space."

The redhead smiled warmly. She put her hands on Elsa's shoulders.

"The sun, the moon and the sky, yes, I know."

Elsa stared at her with a smile slowly stretching her lips, stunned by her sentence.

"You remember?"

"Of course I do." Chuckled Anna. "I'll never forget my very first birthday with you after the Great Thaw."

The blonde had done everything she could to chase her tears until now, and immediately they were replaced by other emotional ones. Anna noticed, and her hands switched from her shoulders to her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, no more tears, okay? I shouldn't have brought that up." She laughed nervously. "Time for me to go, or I'll be late."

She gave a sign to Mattias, who was holding both their horses, and when she joined him, Elsa could only follow without a word.

Kristoff came close to his wife.

"I'll take care of Arendelle with all my heart while you're gone."

"Just like I know you will, honey." Smiled Anna brightly, and they kissed.

She then put her feet in the stirrup and climbed on her horse's back. Mattias did the same, smiling at the reactions of her family.

Anna made her horse walk to the doors, and she turned one last time.

"I'll be back before you guys even notice I'm gone."

Elsa winced.

"I doubt a lot of that."

Anna gave her a positive smile and winked. With the clear light passing between the clouds behind her as she was high on her horse by the doors, she seemed to have an aura. Elsa missed a heartbeat.

"I love you." Mouthed Anna.

She then dashed her mount forward, closely followed by Mattias with the same speed. Kristoff waved at them as they rushed to the horizon, and Elsa stared at their figures shrinking in the distance.

"I love you too." Muttered Elsa.

Her heart was in pain watching her leave, now disappearing from her sight. First Honeymaren, now Anna... The Snow Queen brought her hand to her chest, tightening it against her heart, and closed her eyes.

She clenched her eyelids and bit her lips as one prayer in her mind begged Ahtohallan to keep an eye on the two most precious people in her life, and to make sure that nothing bad would happen to them.