#the challenge of breathing while spear-struck

[lorellaishc]

Turning Tides

(( DWC November 2023, Day 3, Inspiration/Unresolved, CW: combat, violent death; @daily-writing-challenge ))

Lorellai rolled away from a blast of flame launched at her by a flame-scarred druid, barely avoiding the worst of the heat even as the caster began another incantation. She drew up to one knee, and put her fingers in her mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

The druid sneered at Lorellai, the cruelty on her face plain to see. "No one will stop us from recovering our perfect immortality!" the druid shouted, the flames flaring bright in her hands. Lorellai coughed.

"Yeh won't be seein' it!" the girl shouted back, as a form loomed up behind the druid. The smack of a wet sticky tongue caused her to lose concentration on her spell, and the look of fear and confusion on her face was almost comical as Stroganoff pulled her into his mouth, biting down hard. Her legs kicked twice, and then stopped while the mighty hornswog burbled, bathing his victim in his molten juices. Stroganoff was not one to play nice when his dwarf was in danger.

"Good boy, good, good boy!" Lorellai said, pulling herself to her feet and leaning on Stroganoff to steady herself. Her arms felt like jelly, and she didn't need a mirror to know she was covered in soot and minor burns. She'd had to toss her bomb pouch for fear of it cooking off, and the rest of her gear was in rough shape from the hours of fighting for the Wellspring. She pulled her goggles down, wiping the lenses clean as she scanned the battlefield for her friends. Down the way, Ghorren, Edmund, Shansii and the rest were holding back a swarm of primalists and fire elementals with everything they had, while further down the line she could see the Kaldorei and the Dragons being hard pressed. She'd been tasked with helping knock out the ritual towers the primalists had created to block arcane spells, and she had done her part of the job, but it had taken everything she had. Lorellai was exhausted. They all were.

A pained roar interrupted her reverie. She gasped as she saw Alexstrasza fall, struck from the air by Fyrakk, both taking their visage forms down below, out of her range. She zoomed in, seeing them speak, seeing Fyrakk raise his axe... and then she saw the smile on the dragonqueen's face. Zooming out, she saw the portals opening, and the smile that grew on her face threatened to split it in two. Their friends from the dragon isles, the Kirin tor, and the heroes of the Alliance and Horde emerged, and forced Fyrakk to retreat. A horn blew, and she saw the banner of the Argent Crusade flying, and knew that her uncle Dolraan was down there as well.

A burst of arcane energy flared from the other side of Stroganoff, catching her attention. She had barely moved to look and see what it was when she was grabbed and pulled into a familiar hug. "Och, lass, there yeh are! Oh I'm so proud of yeh!" Drogar yelled, holding her close enough she worried she might not be able to breathe. Well, she'd held her breath for worse reasons, and she just gripped him tight, burying her face into his beard like she had when she was little.

"Oh da," she said when he loosened his grip, "it's been real hard out here, harder than any of your stories!" Drogar beamed at her as he continued to hold her, feeling her shudder as she tried not to cry.

"I know lass. Some things the stories can never get across. But you've done so bloody well, and I'm so bloody proud of yeh. But there's more t' do, so why don't we get on down and finish up this fight so we can catch up proper, aye?" he declared, stepping back and pulling a rifle and one of his combat mecha-squirrels from their place on his back. He tossed his daughter a potion that was caught and eagerly gulped down, restoring her stamina.

"Alright dad, let's do this." Lorellai declared, hefting her spear, and shouting a warcry as she charged down the hill, Stroganoff at her side and her father at her back. They had a battle to win.

[bookwyrmbran]

Happy Wednesday (an Interlude)

Last night I spent six hours at the ER, almost all of it with pretty severe pain in my left side that just. kept. spreading. It was a busy night. By the time a nurse got around to me I’d spent an hour in the waiting room, another hour and a half alone in an exam room. I was in pretty bad shape. 

I have trauma around being left alone to deal with medical crises in addition to the generalized anxiety. I’ve also got vocal cord dysfunction, which manifests like a really nasty asthma attack and chest compression, isn’t responsive to medication or treatment, and can be set off by air contaminants, anxiety, or muscle spasms elsewhere in my torso. I had spent at that point about five hours trying to control my anxiety and pain levels and muscle tension enough to, y’know, keep breathing, and not set off a VCD attack. An effort, given said trauma, and anxiety, and the way the pain was hanging out in the 8.5-9 range.

Loki was there, for which I am glad and grateful, flitting around, never settling on one spot or one shape, trying to distract me, and I love him for it. But Odin was the one at my back, anchoring me enough to let me keep breathing, keep moving through the pain, letting it come and go. Odin was the one calling me back when the anxiety started spiraling, when my breathing started to go, when the flashbacks snapped at me. Pain, anxiety, panic, breath -- yeah. 

I was still lucid, somehow, when an RN finally came, enough to explain the laundry list of allergies, to hold my arm still for the IV. Still lucid, still breathing somehow through the pain. I’ve been at that point before in hospital and it has not gone so well for me, not alone. Panic and pain, loss of breath -- I don’t do well riding those on my own. I know damn well that that was the Old Man, am grateful as fuck for it. As a support, as someone to brace against.... 

Not too long ago I was terrified of him, had encountered too many of the awful narratives passed around by certain people, was convinced that any interaction would leave me wrecked, always and only worse for the wear, that he would inspire nothing but rage or anxiety or panic, incite breathing problems for the hell of it, that he would demand inevitably more than I would or could give. It wasn’t a pretty picture, wasn’t an accurate picture, and I am fucking glad I got past it, that he was patient enough to let me get past it, to a place where I could lean on him instead of heading for the hills. Because as it turns out, I can’t think of anyone who would have done me better, last night, and -- wouldn’t you figure -- it was precisely his familiarity with pain and panic and breath that I needed. 

Happy Wednesday, y’all.

[zhel-rathan]

Bolt

It could be easy to forget the Shroud was a dangerous place, because of how serene it could be.

But the sound of a crossbow firing, and the sudden thunk of a bolt into the trunk next to him reminded him that the beasts and plants weren’t the only dangers in these woods. Man was just as deadly - more cunning, able to use weapons, and almost always traveling in packs.

He turned quickly, fists raised and ready to strike, a trio of bandits approaching from the brush, weapons drawn. They were hesitant to attack, now, for some reason - they approached, a trio of them, brandishing weapons.

“Easy there, little rabbit - first shot’s free, but the next won’t miss. Can do this easy, though - just toss your pack, and any gil you have on ya’, and we’ll go hunting somewhere else... Avoid an unfortunate accident, y’follow?”

The Hyur who’d fired at him grinned, while the Elezen and Miqo’te flanking him leered and snickered. Zhel, for his part, didn’t answer. It was easy to mistake him for helpless - a Viera, dressed casually, taking his ease in the woods.

But, he was always armed - whether or not he looked like it.

They thought they’d had the upper hand, and so came close - close enough that it was a quick matter to get within striking distance, and bring a fist to the Hyur’s throat. The crossbowman stumbled backwards, coughing and choking, trying for air.

The Elezen brought her daggers in sweeping motions towards Zhel, the Miqo’te thrusting his spear from the other side. Zhel ducked, bringing a bracer up to catch the slashes of the daggers - new marks to mark their frequent use - as he twisted to avoid the spear, grasping and pulling it to continue its motion into the Elezen.

He took one of her daggers, wrenching it from her grasp to continue his turn and bring it down into the Miqo’te’s back. His breathing heavy, he paused - too long, as another shot from the crossbow hit the back of his shoulder.

He let out a pained grunt, turning and seeing the Hyur, on the ground, crossbow raised. Still grasping his throat - Zhel had staggered him, but he would live, though he didn’t seem to have the strength to reload again.

Zhel approached the Hyur, staring him down, the empty crossbow still aimed at him. The Viera’s brow set, he knelt down, raised his fist, and struck - the Hyur falling unconscious. The Wood Wailers would take that one... Maybe there was a bounty on the bandits, like there tended to be.

He hoisted the Hyur onto his shoulder, starting towards the nearest settlement, glancing at the bodies left behind.

It was easy to mistake him for helpless - Zhel tended to be friendly, and to avoid escalating arguments into actual fights. He liked meeting new people, getting to know them, and trying to do right by them.

But, he had trained to be a Warder for years. He was not helpless, and for as gentle and kind as he could be... He was not afraid to kill when necessary.

It was a shame those two had to learn that the hard way.

Master Post || Prompt Source || Challenge Carrd

[cm-top-10]

C.M. Top 10: Most Dark & Gore Scenes &/or Characters in Cartoon Series

Warning: The following top ten may contain possible spoilers for those who haven't seen newer series. This post may also contain forms of graphic violence & some gore scenes that maybe too much for you to witness. So for your safety & others do not look unless it's at your own risk.

You've been warned...

We all discover at some point in time that not everything you know is allover the rainbow. Most times we see things we can't unsee or learn dark secrets of someone you thought you knew your whole life. & sometimes we learn things the hard way. Or the messed up dark way...

So for this 1st dark Top 10 features the most characters with a dark histories, secrets or just straight up dark/gore scenes. Which character did you not expect to have a dark side? Sadly you be the judge...

1. Invincible - Omni Man beating his son to a pulp.

After learning the dark truth that was revealed to Mark about his father's true intentions. Nolan tells his son the truth about why he was sent to Earth & why he killed the Guardians.

Telling him the reasons why he's here was so he could eliminate any potential threat to the Viltrum Empire. & that he was raising his son not out of responsibility or heroics, but to have him as a bred soldier of the Empire to kill anyone who stood in their way.

& he wanted Mark to join their cause with him.

After Mark angrily refused to help him conquer the planet. Nolan nearly beats the life out of his own son & yells to the top of his lungs saying how pointless it is to protect his home world. While killing millions of innocent people in the process of their brutal fight.

However before he could finish him off, Nolan suddenly realized what he did to his own child & fled the Earth in machspeed, shedding a tear.

They say fatherhood is complicated, but not like this...

2. Castlevania Lords of Shadow - Gabriel's dark fate

While on his journey to slay all three of the Lords of Shadow. Gabriel slowly learned they were the founders of the Order & told him the truth of his order's true intention from each Shadow Lord who too were being used by the Brotherhood of Light. Then when he finally reached the final Lord of Shadow, he learned about his wife's death & fell into dark despair.

Over time his heart grew darkened. & knew nothing but bitterness & sorrow...

But after defeating the three Lords, Laura appears to tell Gabriel that he awakened another ancient evil known as the Forgotten One. Who had plans to destroy all creation & they had to venture to the Brotherhood's fortress to find the entrance to where he was imprisoned.

However only dark begins can enter the realm. & the only way he can bypass it's effects & to defeat this ancient evil, was to become one himself...

So Laura asked him to drink her blood & free her of her torment. Hesitant at first he did what was asked of her & dranked every last drop of her blood, until she died.

He then defeated the Forgotten One & saved mankind. But at a cost of his soul & happiness.

Thus becoming a vampire.

A vampire the world would soon know & fear as Dracul the Dragon.

But that is another story...

3. Baki the Grappler - Yujiro Hanma

As most know Yujiro is the world's most unstoppable & cruelest warrior in the history of fighters. Not even the U.S. Military dares to go near him. Yes Yujiro the Orge has struck fear into many people, even military personnel of different countries. & he did it with no weapons & has turned the U.S. into his personal playground for death & battles.

But the most cruelest thing he's done was ripping the face of one of China's most respected Kaioh masters while facing him in battle, testing his worthiness. The reason Yujiro did this challenge was not to prove his worth but to show all of China & their leaders that they are worthless to him. & showed them all that he doesn't care about their hatred towards Japan noir their worthiness.

& he struck that fear into all who witnessed Ryu Kaioh getting defaced & brutally defeated. Yes this is one man who's definitely going to hell & is going to smile about it.

Because Satan himself would be pissing his buttflap in his sights in fear. While Yujiro fucks his succubus wife in front of his face knowing how little fucks he gives about his "sins."

4. Primal - Sauropod Massacre

After being infected by the Zombie Virus. The infected sauropod becomes a mad rouge & slaughters it's own herd in a bloody rage & massacre.

It left no survivors, ripped them apart & destroyed many of the herds' eggs leaving nothing remaining...

Truly whatever zombie virus this was it drove this poor creature mad & didn't stop until everything wasn't breathing.

Luckily Spear & Fang were able to run it into a dormant volcano. Where the infected dinosaur burnt to ash.

Hopefully now the poor beast is at peace...

5. Star Wars Rebels - Master Luminara's remains

In the search for Luminara to replace Kanan to be Ezra's new master. They soon learned too late that her remains were being used to lure any surviving Jedi out of hiding. So that any Sith Hunters like the Grand Inquisitor would slay them on the spot.

Sadly no one knows whatever happened to her corpse after they escaped. Or if the Empire even still has her.

Rest in peace Luminara wherever you are...

6. Legend of Tarzan - Death of Clayton

While battling in the trees, Tarzan defeated Clayton by tangling him into the jungle vines. But during his blind rage he angrily swiped vine after vine, until one wrapped his neck. Tarzan tried his best to warn him, but in his rage Claton cuts the vine that he was holding on to.

Then after it broke they both plummet to the ground. Tarzan landed safely, Clayton however was hung from above by one of the vines wrapped around his neck after it snapped it straight out from the fall.

There truly are things worse than fate...

7. RWBY - the Death of Adam Taurus

After weeks of stalking Blake & her group. Blake had no choice but to confront Adam for the last time with the help of Yang. The battle was harsh, but in the end they managed to out-think him by stabbing him from different sides. One in his chest & one in the back.

He then fell to his death over a huge waterfall after hitting his head over a ledge before plummeting into the water. Hopefully they've finally seen the last of Adam Taurus.

But let's also hope he doesn't pull a Cinder...

8. TFP Beast Hunters - Predaking beats the scrap out of Ratchet

After using Ratchet to wipe out mankind. The Decepticons threw him into the frails of a vengeful Predaking. Predaking then beats & claws Ratchet, throwing him around like a rag-doll. Until he was ready to finish him off, luckily Ratchet convinced him to hear him out. & told Predaking the truth about what had happened to his Predacon army.

After he told Predaking that it was Megatron who ordered his race's extermination. He asks why he did so & Ratchet replys--

Ratchet: Being on the receiving end of your might. One theory springs to mind, Megatron fears you & any like you.

In his blind rage Predaking stormed his way to Megatron, wiping out anyone who stood in his way.

Which led to his own demise, but that is a story for another time...

9. JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Stealy Joe gets his ass beat by Jotaro

Now this slimy bastard got what he deserves. Not only did he try to humiliate & blackmail Jotaro into doing his bidding. This cocky motherfucker goes & threatens a random little girl out of the blue. If Jotaro didn't face him like a man & does what he says.

With him up to here with the man's assholeness, our boi Jotaro decided enough is enough & beats the ever loving shit out of this guy. & after punching him multiple times, he literally sends him flying into a wall & throws him his receipt.

Rest in Hell, Joe you worthless bastard!

10. The Falcon Captain America & The Winter Soldier - Captain America U.S. Agent gets his arm broken.

John Walker the former Captain America was given a mantle he wasn't worthy of. Don't get me wrong as much as I had my doubts of him, I was willing to give him a benefit of a doubt. That is until he soiled Steve's good name by using his shield to kill a man in cold blood.

During his blind rage of vengeance, he chased down one of the Flag Smashers & constantly beats him over-&-over with the shield. & then kills him with a fatal blow to the chest area in front of tons of people.

After he murdered one of the perps, Falcon & Bucky tried to ask him to hand over the shield peacefully...

You can take a wild guess what Walker's answer was. He then attacked them with rage & ego, losing his shit. However that ego died as soon as Falcon & Buck breaks his arm to get the shield back. He was then discharged by the U.S. government & was relieved of his duties as Captain America.

Not only that but he then found his way into a dark path he may not be able to uncross.

But that part is another story for another time.

Either way he got dealt some shitty karma.

[solinarimoon]

A/N: This is my second piece for @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 follower challenge. This piece ended up being very bleak and dark. Please don’t disown me. My prompt was lyrics from Newsies (an absolutely wonderful movie/play) and they will be in bold. My OC’s name, Fiadh (pronounced fee-a) is an old Irish word meaning “wild” and comes from the word for wildlife, fiadhurla.

Warnings: Major character death, violence, threats of sexual violence, crude langauge/swear words, some heavy heavy angst. You have been warned.

Word Count:2492

My Masterlist

Far Away

The branches and bushes snag on Fiadh’s cloak as she plunges through the underbrush. Tears stream down her ashen face and dampen the golden hairs that have fallen out of her braid, plastering them along her cheeks. The trails they leave are cold against the heat rising from her body. Her breath comes in ragged gasps and she can feel a pain grasp at her side but still she runs.

She is running to escape the collapse of her world.

~~~~~~~

When they had placed Finan’s sword on the table in front of her, Fiadh’s mind had gone blank. The focus of her attention snapping to the blade. Coated in brown, congealed blood and gore. The woman had tried to slide back in her seat, move away from the offending blade, but firm hands had held her shoulders, keeping Fiadh in place and confronting the awful truth.

“Your man’s not coming to save you, girlie. Irish bastard tried fighting his way past our guards. Took one too many arrows in the process.” The sneer on the Dane, Olav’s face was cruel. Twisted. A ragged scar ran along the man’s temple and forehead where he had taken a blow from an enemy spear. Finan’s spear.

The spear that moments before had been thrust through the leather and mail worn by Olav’s brother.

Years before all this, when Fiadh’s love with Finan was still fresh and exciting, that battle and the chaos that followed had led to the feud that continued to rage between the men of Coccham and Olav’s marauding band of Dane’s.

Looking up from the blade, Fiadh struggled to find any words as the lump in her throat lodged firmly in place. Dropping her head once more, she desperately tried to wipe the tears cascading down your face, but with hands tied behind her back she had instead furiously brushed her cheek against her shoulder.

“Uhtred has lost his right hand man and you are now free to wed another, Fiadh.” Choking back a sob, Fiadh began to shake her head, wishing to drown out the offending words. “ Aw, my dear. Do not shed tears over him,” Olav continued to torment her while leaning on his fists, towering over the woman. His words were condescending. Cruel. “I will have no trouble finding you another cock to fuck the irishman from your mind.”

Fiadh felt her despair overcome by a seething rage at his words.

Clenching her jaw, and lifting her head, Fiadh met Olav’s face. Her eyes, still brimming with tears, contained a rage that could burn the entirety of Alfred’s England.

The glob of saliva that smacked into Olav’s face came as a surprise to him.

The Dane had not expected the woman to continue to have such a fighter’s spirit after hearing the news.

Slowly, Olav smeared the offending mucus off onto his tunic, his face betraying no emotion.

A few steps brought him around the small table to peer down at Fiadh. Her face screwed up in anger and anguish.

Olan’s next words are quiet, low. A promise.

“I will break that spirit of yours, Fiadh. And my only regret will be that I was unable to do so before he died. Because showing him a broken shell of his woman would have been the sweetest revenge. I will have to settle for this now.” His fingers reached out to trail up her arm, grazing across the pulse of her throat to firmly grasp her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. Drawing his hand back, he struck her across the cheek. The blow brought stars to her eyes and she should have fallen to the ground, such was the force behind his hand. Before she could slide off the chair, he grasped at her shoulders dragging her up to stand before him, shaking her firmly.

“You will yield to me, girl. And you will beg for my mercy,” he continued to the guard standing behind her, “now return her to her tent. See that she is guarded at all times.”

Olav released her roughly into the hands of the other man who callously dragged the woman out of the tent and along the path towards her own tent.

The night was thick with the sounds of the men in Olav’s camp. Fires burned bright, sending shadows flickering along the path and tents. Fiadh had never known Olav to have such a large sum of men under his command. That Finan would have thought to try and breach the border set around the camp must have been madness. The fear for her safety was the only thing that could drive him to do such a desperate act. And that guilt of that thought gnawed at Fiadh. Her stomach roiled like a snake.

Fiadh allowed herself to be dragged along. Defeated. Waiting to be alone inside her tent where she could allow her misery to consume her.

Lost in her own anguish, Fiadh almost missed the slight movement on the side of the path.

It was only a moment and then the shadow was gone. But Fiadh’s instincts began working.

Her eyes scanned the path ahead, searching for anything out of place.

Slightly, Fiadh slowed her feet to more shuffling and resisted the pull from the guard at her arm.

“Come on now, bitch. Stop that. Get a move on!” Pulling harder, the guard stumbled as Fiadh rushed forward and he lost his grip on her arm.

He straightened up only to find a knife at his throat and Faidh staring at him several paces away.

“That’s no way to speak to a woman,” Sihtric declared before dragging the blade firmly across the man’s throat. The crimson life force pulsed down his body as he jerked.

After he laid the man down, Sihtric stode the few paces to grasp Fiadh’s shoulder.

“Run, Fiadh. Osferth is in the woods with horses. That way,” he gestured past the few tents neighboring the trees, “go now! Uhtred is in the camp and we mean to end this tonight.”

“I will stay and fight, Sihtric.” Fiadh’s words, despite her conviction, come out rasping and choked. “I will avenge what they have taken from me.” Her tears slip past her lashes once more as Sihtric grasps the back of her neck and drops his forehead to rest on hers.

Fiadh can feel the Dane’s body shudder, trying to hold in his own sobs.

“No, Fiadh,” he whispered. His words were broken. “You are needed by his side now. He needs you.”

Fiadh pulled her head back, her eyes questioning, desperate.

“He…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“For now, he lives. But, Fiadh,” Sihtric watched her while he spoke the next words, “he will not survive long. His wounds are deep and there are many. He needs you. He needs his wife.”

Fiadh staggered back a pace, searching Sihtric’s face. The anguish there mirrored her own and she felt her heart sinking into her stomach.

“Go now, Fiadh. Find Osferth. We will return when Olav is dead.”

Sihtric’s next words were a promise. “He will die this night.”

Fiadh grasped onto Sihtric’s arm, still grasping her neck, and bowed her head a moment gathering her strength.

Then she turned and ran into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

When she found Osferth, it was clear that the man had been crying. Eyes red rimmed and wet met hers and no words were spoken. Just arms reaching to pull her in for a tight embrace before moving towards the horses.

He had his own and another horse saddled and ready to ride. Osferth helped Fiadh into her saddle.

They rode hard and fast to reach Coccham.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Fiadh enters the room she pauses, letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

Low candlelight flickers against the walls and dances across the bed where he was laid.

Finan’s eyes are closed and she can see the labored breathing in the rise and fall of his chest. His skin is dull and pale. Not full of the vigor she usually loved in her husband.

Fiadh can feel herself beginning to break. Furiously, she blinks back the tears blurring her vision as she takes the few steps to close the distance between them.

Dropping to her knees beside the bed, she reaches out and takes his hand.

As soon as he feels her touch, Finan’s eyes open and he turns his head towards his wife.

A gentle smile slides across his lips and Fiadh feels his fingers tightening against her own.

For long moments, neither of them can bring themselves to speak.

Tears flow freely from the corners of Finan’s eyes as he gazes at his wife.

“Are you my angel come to bring me aloft?” The Irishman’s voice is barely a whisper.

Fiadh shakes her head and let’s a small laugh escape her lips.

“No, my husband.”

“Sihtric and Uhtred…”

“Sihtric found me. Sent me to your side. I don’t know their plan. Osferth hasn’t told me. No one has told me anything.” Fiadh can feel herself slipping. Loosing control and breaking into hysterics.

Finan pulls his wife into him, despite his wounds, to rest her head on his chest as he slides his hand along her hair in gentle slow sweeps.

“Shhhh, girl,” he soothes. “Mo ghra. It is ok. You will be ok.”

“But you’re,” her voice squeaks out through her choked tears.

“I know, my love.” Finan’s voice interrupts her pain. “We do not have much time. But I will leave this world knowing you are safe.”

Fiadh pulls back to stare into the eyes of this man who lights up her world, seeing him smiling at her before he continues, “and that is enough, mo ghra. It is enough.”

There is no holding back her sobs any longer as Fiadh drops her face once more into Finan’s once strong but broken body. She grasps desperately at him and feels his arms wrap her tight. And feels the shudder in his breath as the pain of his movements takes hold.

But neither care, because the pain of the flesh is temporary. But the pain of their hearts needs to be held close. That pain needed to be shared and cradled between them. It was the last gift Finan could lay before his wife.

Slow minutes pass while Finan holds her, allowing their tears to flow and their hearts to break with one another.

Because there was no way to stop the breaking. From the moment they first kissed, they had shared their entire lives together. The loss of friends and battles. The joys of triumphs and long nights in one another’s arms. Sharing this pain together would be no different. Not as long as Finan’s body held life.

“Have I ever told you, mo ghra,” Finan’s words are slow, weak. His lips moving only slightly to form the words, “that in loving you, my world was finally at peace?”

The flames from the candles continued to send waves of light dancing around the room. Fiadh brought their interlaced fingers up to place her lips against Finan’s hand and to choke back the sobs threatening to break free.

“Do not speak this way, Finan.”

“No, Fiadh, I must,” he whispered as he shifted his hand out of her own to caress her tear stained cheek. “You have brought me peace. And you will find another peace after I am gone.”

Fresh sobs wracked Fiadh’s body at his words.

And he held her as she fell apart. Until his limbs could hold her no more.

~~~~~~~~~~

When she left the room and walked out into the early grey light of dawn, Fiadh’s steps led her without any conscious thought.

But soon Osferth’s steps fell in with hers.

When their path led her back to the horses grazing in the pasture, she stopped. Her eyes staring across the field at the distant hills and towards Olav’s camp. Waiting. Searching.

Osferth broke the silence.

“Do you think they will succeed?”

Osferth’s voice was quiet. Strained. It was the question both had been wondering. Would there be even more devastating loss for them in the coming light?

Fiadh shook her head, acknowledging she did not know how to think.

The young man continued, “what if they do not? What then?”

The thought lingered in the air for some time.

“Then I ask something of you, Osferth.” Fiadh’s own voice was quiet. Exhausted and hoarse.

Osferth shifted his face to glance at the woman in reply.

“I ask that you, all of you, let me go, far away, somewhere they won’t ever find me. And tomorrow won’t remind me of today.”

Osferth closed his eyes and bowed his head.

Fiadh continued to scan the grounds in the distance.

After some time, two riders could be seen approaching from the horizon.

Uhtred and Sihtric arrived in the pasture. No words were said. No embrace. The silence spoke for them all.

Sihtric stayed by his horse, stroking the beast's muzzle and whispering in his mother tongue.

Uhtred crouched to his knees, hands clasped in front of his face, head held low.

Gathering her courage, Fiadh breathed deep. “Is it done?”

Her eyes still stared off into the distance, not daring to meet her Lord’s face. She knew no matter what she saw there it would only continue to tear her world apart.

“It is done.”

“How?”

When Uhtred did not - could not reply, Sihtric answered her plea.

“Throat slit. In his tent. He and the men who would have led in his absence. The rest will leave to find other places now. He did not have his sword.”

Fiadh dared to glance at Sihtric. The man’s face was a mask, but she could see streaks where tears had fallen.

The silence began again. And it stretched on until Fiadh felt as if her legs would collapse from exhaustion. Slowly, she turned to stride away but was stopped by a soft hand on her arm.

Osferth turned to her, “It is done.”

Fiadh nodded her head once, not meeting his eyes.

“So now, will you stay?”

The question brought her face up to stare at the man, her eyes filling with tears she thought had run dry.

No answer to his question felt right. Fiadh did not know what to think or what to feel.

She left the question unanswered. And walked back towards the town.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list.

Tagging: @maggiescarborough @pokeasleepingsmaug @nxrdist @mystic-shadows42 @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @lauwrite1225 @morosemagick @thebohemianpenguin @mrsalwayswrite @notyourwildestdream @obipoelover @ecarroll1978 @93xdiagonxalley @nobodys-business-world @evelynshelby @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @trenko-heart

[smilesthroughfandoms]

Every single episode of Ducktales (2017) Summarized in Roughly in One Sentence or Less!

Thank you Frank and team so much for introducing this family to a new generation of kids while remaining faithful to your source material. I hope you all enjoy my attempts at humor!

Woo-oo!: We don’t really know what’s going on yet but let’s do this!

Escape To/From Atlantis!: “Well I’m wearing a kilt McDuck! A kiiiilt!”

Daytrip of Doom!: They’re all siblings now and I love them all.

The Great Dime Chase!: “Shut up, everyone! I’ve done something brilliant!” (Also: Guess’s who my favorite character is?)

The Beagle Birthday Breakout!: Lena and Webby are best girls, fight me on this

Terror of the Terra-firmians!: This is the Spoopiest episode and also the most heartwarming.

The House of the Lucky Gander!: He’s an asshole but I love him.

The Infernal Internship of Mark Beaks!: He’s an even bigger asshole but I love him.

The Living Mummies of Toth-Ra!: I too would do anything for a good burrito.

The Impossible Summit of Mt. Neverrest!: “If I had a nickel for every person who cursed me with their dying breath, I’d be twice as rich as I already am.”

The Spear of Selene!: Of course Scrooge showed up freaking Zeus.

Beware the B.U.D.D.Y System!: The fusion of Iron Man and Sailor Moon I never knew I always wanted.

The Missing Links of Moorshire!: I always knew My Little Pony had a deadly fandom but this is ridiculous…

Mystery at McDuck Manor!: Took you long enough, Duckworth, welcome back.

Jaw$!: In this house, we love and respect Tiffany. (Also: Whoever came up with this episode title is the coolest person ever)

The Golden Lagoon of White Agony Plains!: Scrooge and Glomgold are in love with Allison Janney, and honestly, same.

Day of the Only Child!: Doofus is even creepier than Lil’ Gideon, and that is saying something.

From the Confidential Casefiles of Agent 22!: *hums James Bond theme intensely to myself*

Who is Gizmoduck?!: He’s not throwing away his shot! (I’m sorry, I had to)

The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck!: I love Louie in this episode, he’s such a mood.

Sky Pirates… in the Sky!: The Pirates of the Caribbean meets High School Music crossover starring evil Panchito I never knew I needed.

The Secret(s) of Castle McDuck!: We’re all Webby in this episode.

The Last Crash of the Sunchaser!: *ugly sobbing*

The Shadow War, Part 1: Night of De Spell!: Donald finally gets the love he deserves.

The Shadow War Part 2: Day of the Ducks!: *spoiler warning* How is she still alive?!?!?!

The Most Dangerous Game… Night!: David screaming “GAME NIGHT!” is the best damn thing I’ve ever seen.

The Depths of Cousin Fethry!: I love Cousin Spongebob!

The Ballad of Duke Baloney!: Dammit, Frank.

The Town Where Everyone Was Nice!: They’re boyfriends mates, sorry I don’t make the rules.

Storkules in Duckburg!: Storkules is the ultimate Donald Duck fan, we cannot comepete.

Last Christmas!: Somehow the Ghost of Christmas McBrayer is the least surprising thing I’ve ever seen in this show.

Whatever Happened to Della Duck?!: Oh, so that’s how she survived.

Treasure of the Found Lamp!: Dijin is the best character.

The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!: Yee–and I cannot stress this enough–haw.

The 87 Cent Solution!: *wheezing* Dammit, Frank…

The Golden Spear!: Oh my god, they were roommates!

Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!: Dammit, Frank!

Raiders of the Doomsday Vault!: “So stand out, above the crowd! Even if I gotta shout it out loud!”

Friendship Hates Magic!: Webby gets two friends for the price of one seance!

The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!: BEAKS SMASH… THAT LIKE BUTTON! (I’m so sorry)

The Duck Knight Returns!: *spoilers* The single best superhero, origin story-based episode ever! 

Whatever Happened To Donald Duck?!: *sobbing* He’s a good dad!

Happy Birthday, Doofus Drake!: This entire episode is creepier than most indie horror games.

A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!: All the kids’ dreams are moods… except Huey’s, his dream can go jump off a microwave.

The Golden Army of Cornelius Coot!: Della is just pulling a Donald and adopting any and all kids within arms reach at this point.

Timephoon!: “I’m on it!” *gets struck by lightning* “I’ve immediately failed you!”

Glomtales!: I don’t know what’s more surprising, the fact that Louie won the bet or that they used Glomgold’s theme song takeover as the intro.

The Richest Duck in the World!: Drag them, Owlson. Drag them all…

Moonvasion! Part 1: *deep inhale* D A M M I T F R A N K!

Moonvasion! Part 2: Glomgold is my new favorite villain character.

Challenge of the Senior Junior Woodchuck!: Huey and Violet fight for the right to be crowned the squarest of squares.

Quack Pack!: Radical dude! *insert cheesy 90s riff here*

Double-O Duck in You Only Crash Twice!: We were all simping SO HARD this episode don’t think I forgot!!!

The Lost Harp of Mervana!: Scrooge fails a vibe check.

Louie’s Eleven!:  Is it really a heist movie if something doesn’t go completely wrong?

Astro B.O.Y.D.!: So much ANIME!!!!!!

The Rumble for Ragnarok!: Eh, the MCU did it better

The Phantom and the Sorceress!: Seeing Gladstone suffer brings me an odd amount of joy

They Put a Moonlander on Earth!: They’re lesbians, Harold!

The Trickening!: Did… did no one really tell Launchpad how Halloween works?

The Forbidden Fountain of the Foreverglades!: If I had a nickel for every time a cartoon version of Ponce de Leon died a gruesome death on screen, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice, right?

Let’s Get Dangerous!: *spoilers* THEY ARE A SUPERHERO FAMILY!!!!

Escape from the ImpossiBin!: Scrooge and Beakley are a little too excited to traumatize their family because of their trauma.

The Split Sword of Swanstantine!: Dewey and Webby literally walk in blind, Violet spices things up, and Huey unleashes the Rage™

New Gods on the Block!: The most accurate representation of Zeus ever.

The First Adventure!: Young Donald is one heck of a mood.

The Fight for Castle McDuck!: The sibling culture episode.

How Santa Stole Christmas!: Charles Dickens would approve, probably.

Beaks in the Shell!: Huey ships Fendra and Gyro needs to stop hiding in the closet.

The Lost Cargo of Kit Cloudkicker!: The Battle of Theatre Kids... in the Sky!

The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck!: All the emotional weight was nearly overshadowed by One (1) attractive goth twink.

The Last Adventure Part 1; A Tale of Three Webbys!: They’re so cute! I love them!

The Last Adventure Part 2; The Lost Library of Isabella Finch!: Letting the kids on the plane is the single smartest decision Scrooge has ever made in his life.

The Last Adventure Part 3; Tale’s End!: *ugly, happy, heartbreaking sobbing* Woo-oo!

[bastillia]

Rough Landing

Part 2 of First Lesson

Summary: Commander Ren has a few more things to teach you.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 8.4k

Warnings: cockwarming, overstimulation, threats during intimacy, inappropriate use of the Force, oral sex (ROUGH, m receiving), unsanitary sex location, public(ish) sex, kinda exhibition kink, no aftercare, uhh bit of cumplay

A/N: Whew alright I know it’s been 3 months, but we’re picking up pretty much right where we left off. Thank you all SO much for the love on part 1. And huge thanks to my incredible friends who have supported me, beta read, and helped me conquer my stuck points. I couldn’t have pulled this through without y’all. Enjoy!

***

There was plenty to like about being in space. For one, it was absolutely quiet. 

Perfectly soundless. Unfathomably endless. In a way, the void between the stars had always been your perfect aegis; a blank slate to nurture everything you’d hoped to become. It held power in its silence, and possibility. It was calm, dark, vast-- it was home, for as much or little as you knew about the word. 

If you thought about it, living aboard the roving flagship of the First Order had always given your life more or less a perfect structure. Most of the time, you didn’t even mind the predictability of it. Your days were purposeful and productive. If, sometimes, just a little boring. But, that was okay--you liked the quiet.

And you were never ever taking it for granted again.

“Stop moving.” Kylo Ren’s voice broke through the growing rumble of the hull. It was only the sensation of gloved fingers tightening down into your hip bones that finally alerted you to the fact that you were squirming. Again. You grimaced.

"I'm trying." 

Friction from the gathering atmosphere punched the craft into a sharp rattle, and your heart struck your sternum as the controls lurched underneath your palms. Your fingers cinched down tight, the lack of circulation in your knuckles settling into a dull throb as you continued to wring the contoured grips, as if you could strangle some desperately needed assistance out of them that way.

Fuck.

Breathe.

You could do this, you just had to stay calm--think about home, about the tedium of whatever meeting was probably going on right now. About how all eyes would be on you if you were there, about the dumbstruck look on General Quinn’s face when you presented that fucking perfect dossier you’d compiled on some key New Republic official he’d been trying to track down for months.

Yes, think about that.

Not about the sweat beginning to break out across your skin, the unnerving rattling around you growing louder and louder. Not about what was still sheathed inside your twitching cunt, stretching you, demanding that your body yield to its presence.

Warm echoes of your last orgasm flared up with another clattering vibration of the atmosphere. It felt almost trapped within you, an electric refrain to the adrenaline melody that pounded your veins now. Your floor muscles quivered tight with it, eliciting an approving twitch from within your walls as Ren’s fingers flexed into the bruises on your hips. 

It was incredible, really. How time had begun to feel almost obsolete until now. It had passed abstractly in the quiet serenity of space as you’d sat filled to your limit, feeling nothing but the commander, his breathing, the omnipresent ache of his cock. Your world nothing but an aroused haze-- stirred every so often by a subtle buck of his hips, a kiss to your neck, hot breath in the hollow of your ear whispering don’t move, don’t you fucking move. Good girl. 

Your thoughts snapped back to the present with a vaguely wistful pang as the hull gave another violent shake. 

Atmospheric entry. What was that, week five? Six? Of the TIE pilot training program? It was on the phase-3 test, you were certain. And you’d put credits down that none of the novice pilots had ever experienced the added curriculum of a cock shoved inside of them.

A warning squeeze stilled another involuntary shift of your hips.

You gritted your teeth against your discomfort, instead trying to let the adrenaline form a whetstone to sharpen your senses.

Breathe.

You could do this. You were way beyond just some novice trooper, you were a fucking lieutenant general of the First Order.  And what did you do to earn that rank? You adapted. So, fucking adapt.

A jolt slammed the craft, and your muscles locked up as the head of Ren’s cock speared something tender and abused deep inside you. The ship squirreled under your grip, leaving you paralyzed as the movement of it set off every panic alarm in this new and untested region of your brain. Without missing a beat, two huge, leather-encased palms came up to wrap over your shaking hands, steadying you with remarkable certainty as they coaxed the vessel back under control. 

“Focus, lieutenant." There was almost an amused purr in Ren’s throat, his voice low and close, utterly lacking in any kind of concern. Your pulse gradually came back down, and with it, your fear curled into a flicker of annoyance. If he was going to mock you, he could at least use your proper title.

You know.

The one you’d worked your ass off for.

The drag of fingertips across the bare skin of your upper thighs jolted you. Your body felt hyper-sensitized, like the sudden touch ignited a cascade of fission that couldn’t seem to find equilibrium anywhere. It fractured your brittle composure in two, just as the roaring blaze around the viewport flared again with a powerful tremor that kicked your heart back up in a sudden panic. 

Sweat lined your palms, adrenaline congealing and turning to acid in your veins. You felt your nerve slip.

"Com-commander, s-sir, I--" 

A hum. “Control yourself.”

It was only two words, but each one cut through your rising panic like a blaster shot to the sternum, rattling you to a realization. 

Control. 

That was the test all along. He’d laid it right out in front of you, challenged you to a game with incredibly fucked up stakes, and he was drawing his hand. Taking a seat at a proverbial Sabacc table, stretching out his chest and waiting for you to either bet up, or lose your nerve. The ante was rising, piece by piece as he silently tested the parameters of your breaking point. 

But he wouldn’t find it. Not like this.

Fresh determination fixed your grip around the shaking controls. It was even enough to keep you from reacting this time when a dull pain lanced under your skin, his teeth catching a tender spot where he had marked your neck some time before. He growled. You tucked that card up your sleeve. 

“Decelerate.”

His tone had shifted quieter in a way that made your ears prick, snapping your attention away from the dull ache of your insides. It sort of stunned you, actually, into something of a quiet curiosity. 

His hand reached around you to swipe at a holopad on the console. An altimeter blinked to life, just before the soft heat of his lips returned to your ear.

“Drop to this zone.” He pointed to a region on the display. “Remain there until we get closer." 

Remnants of panic still swam somewhere in your blood, but you managed to draw a careful breath and nod your understanding. Your ante was still on the table, you told yourself. But perhaps he’d decided that challenging you could wait. For now.

Refocusing, you caressed the controls. The ship banked beautifully, intuitively at your will, before lurching a final time as the thrusters hit a stable layer of atmosphere. 

Beneath you, clouds floated in gossamer ribbons over the calm air, as tattered and thankful for its mercy as you felt. Farther down, the dim moonlight breathed monochrome shapes into being, half-swallowed by the murky vapor of shadow between them. Droplets condensed on the viewport as you dropped through the thin cloudbank, skittering shyly outwards and allowing the shapes to solidify into the oppressive grid of a cityscape.

Slowly, you could begin to make out vague details. Industrial sectors, shipyards, scrappy comms towers. The occasional twinkle of speeder headlights creeping between dilapidated buildings, and--

Your gaze snapped back to the holopad on the nav console, a deft swipe of your finger bringing up your coordinates. The planetary code blinked neutrally back at you, but the unmistakable string of numbers harpooned you with a bolt of clarity that had your ribs tightening down around your lungs. A question resurfaced from the bottom of your memory, curling up to slither coldly along the back of your neck. 

“Commander?”

“Hm.”

“Why, um--” You faltered. 

In truth, there was no reason for you to ask. The answer was already swimming around in your gut, acquainting itself with the sour feeling of dread that settled there. Waiting for your brain to analyze it while at the same time sitting in an insidious state of knowing that didn’t need to reach your head at all for you to feel its weight. 

You swallowed, and adjusted your grip. “Why a TIE fighter? Why didn’t we bring the command shuttle?” 

A pause. He reached around you, flicking a switch on the main console, and the Silencer’s headlights shuttered off with a resounding click. “We may need to leave quickly.”

For the first time since leaving the Supremacy, you felt something familiar settle inside of you. Deep and quiet, like the way sound doesn’t travel in space. It was the same, utterly instinctive feeling that took over every time you managed to get yourself in over your head-- when a negotiation turned volatile, when an unforeseen flaw surfaced in a mission strategy mid-execution. Those moments where the fixed parameters of your training ended, and the only thing left to take the pilot’s seat was your own intuition. 

But this time, there was something else there with it. It glowed within the powerful shroud of calm, thrumming quietly, filling you with something potent and restless and--exciting, that you couldn’t quite place.

Real, physical danger was not something you had much direct experience with. The various moral complexities associated with putting others up against it at your command, you had come to know well. But you were here now. Facing it in the flesh, not protected by the reinforced hull and ion cannons of a Star Destroyer. 

You were here, looking down on the dark streets of Corellia, a planet so lawless and foul and flat out fucking dangerous that the First Order had all but given up establishing a presence here long ago. Even the New Republic’s ties here were thin.

A tightness struck through your chest as you very suddenly realized that it was only a matter of time, now, before you were going to have to--

“Drop lower.” The commander shifted to tap something into the nav console. A flight course lit up the holopad, leading to a destination marker just a few klicks ahead. “Land here.”

The sector you entered seemed somehow even darker than the rest as you brought the Silencer down over the shadowed streets, hints of crumbling walls and rusted vents just barely illuminated by the occasional weak street lamp. No headlights, hardly any ground lighting--you were no ace pilot, obviously, and it took your full concentration just to maneuver the ship between the vague silhouettes of broken antenna towers, avoiding them where their spindly shadows jutted up from the rooftops. You jumped when Ren’s hands enveloped yours again.

“Right here.” He guided your hands, expertly swinging the craft around and into a hover above a dim alleyway, empty and lined on both sides with large, abandoned-looking industrial structures. Your pulse jumped. He released your hands, a finger drawing your attention to a switch on your right, then flicking it casually. “Landing gear.” 

The hull rumbled and thumped. An array of green lights flashed to life in what you could only assume was an indication of the ship’s readiness for landing. If only you felt the same. Your hands were frozen on the controls, your mind simultaneously racing and completely blank. You waited dumbly for guidance, heart hammering, shallow little breaths trapping themselves high in your throat. 

“Relax.” Ren’s voice permeated to your bones as both arms slid around your stomach, liquefying your fear into a trembling plea. 

“P-please, Commander, I d-don--” You cut off with a shiver when his lips met your neck, his hips beginning to rock in a slow, enunciated rhythm that had your cunt immediately bearing down with need as you felt him harden. “Fuck, p-please, I don’t know how t--... h-how to--”

Your eyes rolled back as a hand slid down between your legs, the leather pad of his finger finding your clit stiff and sensitive, its touch featherlight. A hum rumbled under your shoulders. “Your intuition, lieutenant. Feel it, don’t think.” 

Maker help you, there were a lot of things you could fucking feel right now. Namely, your commander’s cock slowly massaging your walls, lazy in its rhythm. Your grip on the controls banishing the circulation entirely from your knuckles. His fingers sliding down your slit, spreading as he reached the root of himself, shamelessly feeling the obscene way your body yielded to the thickness at his base. The lust that erupted low in your belly in response. The panic that was rising as you remembered your task, its sharp tendrils threatening to reach your head and overwhelm you. 

Control yourself.

A turbulent breath shook some air back into your lungs as your tiny inner voice of reason managed to surface again. Collecting yourself, you let it expand, pushing each distraction away one by one as it went. Focus, it reminded you. Remember the card up your sleeve, get through this round. 

You tethered your awareness to the ship, to the curve of the controls against your palms, to the way they extended like a continuation of your own neural circuits to command the sleek metal beast encircling you. A steady, downward press of your hands, and it purred its obedient response, settling slowly towards the ground below.

“Good girl,” Ren said. “Just like that.” 

There was something--a tiny flicker of mischief in the shadows of his voice. Maybe you would have caught it quicker, but your tunneled focus left you one fatal step behind him, too slow to anticipate his move. His hand shifted, easily finding your raw clit against his fingertip, and pressed down--hard.

Electric. Everything was electric. Your vision doubled, the shredded remnants of your nerves shorting out and screaming against the paralyzing flood of sensation, ripping a ragged gasp from the bottom of your lungs. Maker, don’t scream, don’t fucking-- 

A shift of his finger and your hips jerked, an involuntary movement of sheer desperation for escape that carried right through your whole body and into the ship.

One wing dipped to the side, and it was only the sharp trill of a proximity alarm that managed to blast through to what was left of your reflexes just in time. A curse cut the air through your lips, your shaking hands grappling the controls into a clumsy counter-correction that swayed the craft wildly as you wrestled it back to center. The rocking slowly stilled, the ringing in your ears no longer from the alarm, but your own pulse bludgeoning your temples. Ren simply chuckled, and released your clit.

“Commander.” A few rapid blinks cleared the blur from your vision, but oxygen was still painful through the panic in your chest, leaving you frustratingly breathless. “With all due respect, sir, do you want me to crash your ship?”

“You won’t.” The smirk was audible in his voice. “Or is my confidence in your aptitude misguided, lieutenant?” 

A slew of unkind words lashed themselves to your tongue, fighting for freedom with the fuel of indignation that scalded your throat like bile, but you swallowed both, smothering your thoughts into silence. Stay calm. Maintain control. You drew a tight breath. “No, sir.”

“Mm. Good.” He rocked his hips firmly up into you, and a pitiful little noise clutched in your throat. “Then land my ship, and perhaps your proficiency will be rewarded.”

Desire shot up your spine like a flare, igniting at the base of your brain and rocketing your thoughts clear past apprehension and ahead to the promise of relief. It was enough to allow bravery to wriggle back into your fingers, your hands finding the wherewithal to resume their task even as your lungs stalled in anticipation of another distraction. 

But none came. 

The relief that flooded you was immediate and powerful the second you felt solid ground settle under the landing gear. The hull groaned around you as the craft came to a full rest, wheezing like a fathier after a hard gallop, and you, its master, just thankful to have survived the race. But there was one more hurdle for you.

“You know this part.” Ren gestured vaguely to the console, still alive with various lights and indicators, many of which, no, you certainly did not know anything about.

Your eyes darted back and forth a few times before it hit you. Of course. The ignition sequence.

Presumably, to shut the fighter down, you would just need to… to do it backwards? That seemed like the logical course of action, at least. Stars, how long ago had you even taken off? The Supremacy already felt like a faint memory, the edges of its shape scattered through a hazed prism, each facet reflecting nothing but incandescent pleasure and the blinding heat of Kylo Ren. 

But you had to remember. This was--you hoped--the final test, and there was no way you were going to fail. Maker, what was wrong with you, you were better than this, just think. The last thing he turned on had been…

Thrusters.

Right console, three switches. Bring all of those down. The roar of the ion engines quieted, taking the vibration of the hull down to a faint rumble. Okay, good, next was--

Ignition. Yes, ignition: off. Much quieter now, and stars, when was the last time you breathed? Fucking breathe. Okay, next. 

Compressor: disengaged. Auxiliary last.

Everything went black as you killed the main power. Your breathing seemed to echo around in the stillness of the cockpit, your cunt twitching to life in acknowledgment of what was now pressing harder than beskar steel against your guts, amplified by the darkness. It was almost as if the power from the ship had never really shut down, but simply transferred into your own body instead, flicking your ignition switch and bringing your arousal roaring back to life with a vengeance.

Every line of the commander’s body against you was lighting up your awareness, filling the sensory void with his presence, the unbearable stillness of him. What had he meant when he said he’d reward you? You’d learned his lesson, yes, and passed every fucked up test he’d thrown at you to prove it. For that, you could commend yourself. 

But if there was one lesson more poignant than the rest, one that now stuck like thermal sludge to every crevice of your understanding, it was that his next move could come at any moment--and not always in a way you could anticipate. 

This seemed like one of those moments.

A shift of his chest under your shoulders made you jump, one arm reaching up somewhere you couldn’t see to flick a control, and the hatch cracked open with a hiss. The night air flooded the cockpit, all but drowning your racing thoughts as it drew in like a cool sigh to kiss the heat in your cheeks. Your head fell back, lungs gratefully accepting the damp and oddly foreign relief of atmospheric oxygen, even as the scent of it stuck in your mouth. It was thick, leaden with rain and crude fuel, but you hardly cared. It felt divine.

Beneath you, an impatient grunt and a single squeeze to your thighs brought you back to the present with a tiny flicker of alarm. 

“Out.” 

Your muscles froze. 

“But, I--” Whatever you might have expected out of this moment, that was possibly the last thing you could have prepared for, and your brain was fumbling spectacularly in an attempt to process the one word. 

Did he actually mean that? Was this another test? You didn’t even feel like you could move right now, let alone clamber out of the ship with your whole body aching and clenching as it was. And you were so full, and he was so hard, and now you were nearly trembling with need and--

And you took too long to act. 

Wide hands locked around your waist, and then everything shifted--he was picking you up. Holy shit he was strong, he hoisted you upwards in one effortless motion, throwing your world into a blur. The only thing you distinctly registered through your disorientation was the feeling of his hard cock pulling along your tired walls, finally popping free for you to flutter and clench around nothing for a moment before your bare ass came down on the lip of the cockpit. 

Cold metal bit your flesh, a harsh and unforgiving contrast to the warm lap you’d grown accustomed to. Fuck, everything was dark. But hearing him shift underneath you had you hurriedly swinging your legs around to jump down.

And... the ground was a lot farther down than you thought. 

You landed hard. Hard enough for your knees to buckle, and you stumbled against the hobble around your thighs in a clumsy attempt to keep yourself upright. But before you could lose your balance you were moving again, being yanked by the arm and slammed back hard against the ship.

A huge, black mass crowded in on you, looming and pressing you back against creaking durasteel, the metal still warm under your shoulders as the ship settled from flight. Your heart slammed against the commander’s advance, eyes darting through shadow. 

In the span of a shared breath, his mouth crashed down on yours, open and wanting and hungry in the darkness, and everything inside of you detonated.

The heat of his mouth was dizzying. You mewled into it, the feeling of him so strong and warm and everywhere, tugging at your hips, tongue sliding past your teeth. Your hands gravitated upwards for any leverage they could find just to pull him closer, to taste him deeper. A low, rumbling sound scraped the bottom of his chest and two huge hands encircled your wandering wrists, easily plucking them off of their feverish course and slamming them up beside your shoulders instead. 

His exploration of your mouth grew brazen as he pinned you open, crushing you against unyielding steel, even taking a moment to suck at your bottom lip before his hot tongue was licking deep into you again, stealing your breath and coaxing soft sounds from your chest in its wake. 

An immobilizing sensation locked your arms in place, keeping them tight against the ship even as his touch slid along your arms and around to the front of your torso. The extra sensations hardly even registered through the feeling of his mouth on yours until you realized you still couldn’t move while he was cupping your face with one hand, the other leather-encased palm flattening over the confines of your uniform, squeezing at the soft swell of your breasts hidden beneath. 

A low growl into your mouth, a shift of pressure up your sternum, and then his fingers found and curled over your pressed collar. With one purposeful tug, the material popped open, and you gasped.

"Commander," you broke the kiss, your head spinning as his breath immediately blazed against your neck instead. His movements were impatient, uncharacteristically clumsy in their urgency as you felt the material of your top continue to separate all the way down to your cleavage. “Commander, w-we--”

Fuck, it was impossible to think, everything in your brain felt thick with a vibrating fog. You could feel tiny points of rational thought trying to take form, trying to remind you of where you were, of why this was risky. But they were like infant stars peeking through a hungry nebula, unable to solidify before being swallowed again. 

"Fuck, w--” His tongue slowly rode the curve of your jaw, and stars, what were you even going to say? “W-we sho-shouldn’t-" 

“Shouldn’t what?” he purred, smooth fingertips trailing slowly down the bare plane of your sternum and sliding under the open edge of your coat.

A soft whine was all you could muster, broken thoughts dissolving on your tongue the moment he cupped the curve of your breast and scooped it free of your neckline, pushing the fabric aside to let your nipple peak up against the open air. 

The empty street was quiet enough that your breaths seemed to ricochet as they tripped softly over each other, sliding along the walls of the alley and joining the soft buzz of a flickering street lamp farther down. Stars, anyone could be listening-- watching, for all you knew. In a city like this, it was impossible to anticipate the stakes. Rife with the sorts of creatures who took refuge in shadow, even the darkness seemed to betray you, leaving every inch of exposed skin glowing as if the dim moonlight had suddenly adopted all the strength of a Tatooine sun. 

Your heart raced. You scrambled to clutch at the caution left within yourself, for any remaining instinct that would tell you that this was wrong, that you shouldn’t be going along with this. 

But you found no purchase. Your inhibitions were dissolving through your fingers-- dwarfed in Kylo Ren’s shadow, smothered under his hands, the power of his presence atomizing any need for your guarded reluctance and casting it into obsolescence. 

And as you surrendered, suddenly every eye that might be watching, every ear that could be tuned to your pleasure just around a shadowed corner, was like a hit of fucking spice. The thrill of it arched your back, coaxed bolder sounds from your chest that bounced daringly off of the bullet-scuffed duracrete to fade into the darkness of the alley.

Ren gave voice to it first, a growl breaking through the roar between your ears. 

“You’re enjoying this, lieutenant.” A swift yank of your undershirt revealed both of your tits to the damp air, and the chill of it settled wonderfully on the thin sheen of sweat that had gathered under your stiff uniform. The sigh that melted through your lips was as much confirmation as you could provide him. 

“Filthy thing.” His voice was a darkened hiss as he roughly took both of your breasts in his hands. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you? Right here in the fucking street.” 

There was no doubt that he could sense the pleasure soaking your thoughts with every passing second, the heat coiling up through your body, breaking you into soft trembles against the solid seams of durasteel.

Stars, this was wrong. 

But there was something about it--about being pinned up, shameless, tits bared and groped in the middle of a dirty Corellian backstreet like some cheap outer rim whore, that had you feeling freer and fucking hotter than you ever had in your life.

Yes.

He could do anything. Take anything. And right now, you’d fucking give it to him. 

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, head nodding in desperate submission as your fingers wiggled against their invisible bonds. It was like your body was coming alive for the first time, finally catalyzed to its transition state, now burning and shifting and begging silently for him not to fucking stop touching you. 

“I want to know, little whore--” His hand spread over your bare collarbones, the wide junction of a thumb and forefinger pressing the base of your windpipe. A gasping little moan left you as his lips brushed your jugular, heat striking up through your belly and all the way into your neck when his other hand urged your thighs apart to tease your slit. "I want to know just how far you can take me down this pretty throat."

Everything in you shuddered, and your unrelenting bonds were probably all that held you up against the sudden lack of support that your knees offered. Kylo Ren pressed the tip of one thick finger inside you, barely curling at your soaked entrance. 

“Do you think you can swallow my cock, lieutenant?”

“Fuck. Yes, yes sir, please.” The breathless response left you before you even registered what you were saying, so thick was the need enshrouding your brain. It muddled your hearing, put everything else on a sensory delay to the pulsing heat that slid down and coiled up in your core.

And that’s why you almost didn’t catch the gritted command before the strong presence of his body suddenly drew away from you, leaving your head spinning. 

“Get on your knees.”

The Force evaporated from around your forearms. The loss of physical support nearly made you buckle, your body sagging against the fighter and leaving you to clutch at a ridge of metal for balance. You’d heard him, vaguely, but your brain still felt spectacularly slow. You were having trouble remembering which way was up, blinking against the low light, and the small hesitation was enough. 

In a flash of movement, his saber cleared the clip on his belt, cracking the air in two as it ignited in his hand and leveled to heat your neck. 

"Now.”

For a second, everything was extraordinarily still. Your lungs, your mind, even the faint drizzle of mist seemed to suspend in the air, vaporize around the searing plasma, and equilibrate into a deathly quiet.

The red aura vibrated in your immediate periphery, engulfing your retinas and casting everything around it in near-total blackness, unwavering in its proximity as the cold street pressed your knees. 

A very marked shift took place in the state of your awareness as you knelt, waiting-- feeling. Everything was hazy and warm before, but now. Oh, now, everything was hot, and sharp. 

The snap of plasma echoing through the empty street sounded somehow both hushed and magnified. The gravelly bite of duracrete into your knees was both painful and electrifying. And all you could do was sit here and accept the way Kylo Ren drank you in, just hold absolutely still and let the tip of the saber rotate to your front, the light of it illuminating your bare chest.

And, fuck. Oh, fucking Maker-- 

You were wet. 

Every beat of your heart was an enunciated hit to your core, giving your arousal a wicked edge that cut into every last molecule of your body. Your cunt ached more with every pulse, and yet Ren just held there, his breaths shaking the damp air between you as he gazed at your naked tits under the light of a weapon that could kill you in half an instant.

You were possessed, the danger and thrill of it flooding your skin with intoxicating fire, and in a moment of what might have been either immense bravery or unfathomable stupidity, your hand began to move. 

Very, very slowly, it pulled along your belly, fingers twitching to splay downwards. The saber heated your knuckles, following as you guided it all the way to the apex of your thighs, where you paused. And then you sat back on your heels, spread your knees as far as they would go, and curled your hips forward, letting the crimson light gleam off of the wet shine of your cunt. 

“Fuck,” Ren rasped from the shadows, something delirious and urgent unearthing itself from the gravel of his voice. Somewhere beyond the snapping hum of the blade, you heard the slick sound of leather moving over flesh. “Fuck- touch yourself. Sh-show me--”

But you were already moving. Your fingers slid into the wet heat of your folds, tender with arousal, the flesh plumped up from abuse. You dragged your slick all over yourself, spreading for him, pulling up to circle your neglected clit and letting out a soft sigh at the relief that saturated you in a deluge. 

The cool air did little now to temper the exquisite heat that flooded your body as you pleasured yourself openly for him, whimpering when you felt a familiar swell prime itself deep within you. It brightened with every practiced curl of your fingers, blooming outwards to rival the lightsaber that illuminated you steadily, and it wasn’t long before your thighs began to clench, your hips rocking against the movement of your hand while heady gasps punched your chest, that luminous heat coming closer and closer to a blinding apex.

You began to flutter, tightening with closeness, but the blade shot up under your chin, freezing you in the one movement. 

“Don’t cum.” 

Your heart slammed in your throat, every muscle locking into place where it was. You could feel errant sparks biting your skin, daring you not to move or speak.

And then darkness swallowed you, a hiss of steam resounding as the saber abruptly disengaged. The lingering imprint of it marred your sight, and you gasped when the whirl of movement in front of you turned into a large hand snaking into your hair, hips crowding your face, and the warm, solid length of Kylo Ren’s cock pressing against your cheek. 

You whined, stiff muscles liquefying as you turned your mouth towards it, moisture already welling under your tongue. But his fingers tightened at your scalp, stopping you.

“See what you do to me, little thing?” 

His other hand gripped around his base, letting the weight of his cock thump against your cheek once, twice. Fuck, he was so hard, and if you thought he was big before, it was even more obvious now that he was pressed right up against your face, so close to the soft heat of your mouth.

You nodded and whimpered, letting your cheek brush against his erection, still damp with your own slick. He rocked his hips forward, and the sheer breadth of his stature dwarfed you as he pressed in closer, until your face tilted and your jaw rested up against the hard plane of his adonis belt. Heat seeped into your cheekbone, radiating from the saber hilt strapped deftly back to his hip, like a warm sun to the earth and smoke of his body. 

An absolutely crippling wave of desperation crashed through you then, pulling an audaciously loud moan up tight through your chest that morphed into a pitifully sobbed out, “Please.” 

The hand in your hair gave a firm tug until you were looking straight up his torso, the glint of his eyes just visible to your adjusting sight. He held you there, his strength commanding, voice slipping like dark matter through his vocal cords when he spoke. 

“Are you going to let this whole filthy fucking city hear what a little whore you are?” He rocked your head back and forth by your hair, turning your neck muscles to liquid. “Begging for my cock?” 

You bit your lip, too far gone to deny or assent. Perhaps caution would still be the smart thing, but stars--you didn’t fucking care any more. You’d let every wretched street rat on Corellia hear you beg for him, if it came down to it right now. 

Not trusting yourself to answer verbally, you simply let your mouth fall open so that your wet tongue could drag over the tiny slip of exposed skin above his groin, never once taking your eyes off of his shadowed face. Your reward was a thick groan and a twitch of his cock by your cheek, shooting a hot spasm into your core. Ren huffed out a tense breath. 

“Keep that fucking mouth open.”

He drew back and pumped himself, long and slow right in front of your obediently waiting tongue, black glove squeezing almost too roughly along his shaft until a thick bead of pre cum wept from his slit. Your brow pinched upwards as saliva pooled behind your bottom lip, threatening to drip down onto the duracrete, seep into a blaster hole and add to the memory that this roughened street would keep of you, so soft and wanting, incongruous next to its grit.

Ren stepped forward, obliterating your thoughts as finally, finally, he rested his thick head on your tongue, removing his own hand and letting you test the full weight of him in your mouth. Your moan was almost a sob when you closed your lips and dragged your tongue across his frenulum, letting him feel you, swirling the pre cum from his tip before sliding him deeper into the hot depths of your mouth. 

“Fuck, good girl,” he hissed, resting both hands in your hair, but not controlling. You took him another inch, tongue working to lubricate your path, satisfaction unfurling when his chest heaved at the feeling. The taste of him shot a primal fire through you, equal parts sharp and masculine, the remnants of your own cum leaving a tang on your taste buds. 

Arousal careened through your belly, and you couldn’t help but dip your hand between your thighs, fingers finding your clit stiff and sensitive as your tongue passed over a thick vein.

But he caught your movement, and your hands were immediately wrenched upwards by an invisible strength, both wrists flying up and into the waiting grip of Ren’s palms. You squeaked.

“Impudent thing,” he growled, and wrapped your smaller hands around the base of his cock, securing your grip with a warning squeeze before carding his fingers into your hair again. “Keep them there.” 

You gave a tiny nod and a shallow whimper, briefly mourning for your aching clit yet almost instantly distracted again by a twitch of his shaft on your tongue. Relaxing your jaw, you took him further, letting him begin to feel the tight silk of your throat.

“Fuck--” every muscle in Ren’s body seemed to go rigid enough to rival the durasteel frame of his ship, and his fingers clenched tighter into your hair. “Yes, take it--” he hissed as you slipped back an inch and enveloped him again, relaxing to take him deeper.

You found a steady rhythm like this, gradually acclimating to the feeling of intrusion. It became a little easier with each appreciative sound you drew from the commander, arousal permeating your body’s natural defenses and slackening them, even as your throat began to protest the moment you got about halfway down his cock.

But as hard as you tried to ignore the sensation of breathlessness, your lungs still screamed for air. You got maybe eight or nine good strokes in before your lips drew off of him with an obscene pop, slick hands taking over to work his length while you gasped a few starved breaths. 

It would have been easy to stay like this, jaw slack, lips plump and wet, simply marveling at the hard and beautifully flushed appendage in your palms. But then a finger tapped twice under your chin, breaking your daze with a wordless command that struck an immediate response--your eyes flicked up. 

“Are you determined to test my doubts in your capabilities, lieutenant?” He laid a flat palm under your jaw and ran his thumb over your blushed lips, leather slipping lewdly over saliva. “Or must I teach you everything?”

Your heart struck your pelvic floor, dread and excitement charging up like a shot from a plasma cannon. “N-no. I--” Heat surged into your face. “I me-mean, I, uh--” Fuck, it was stupid to think you were somehow out of hot water. He expected more. Always, always, expected more, and now you were going to have to play your cards carefully. You swallowed against the thundering of your pulse. “I c-can take it, Commander, ple-please--”

“Can you?” He wiggled your jaw slightly in his palm, face tilting until a sliver of moonlight slanted across it like a translucent scar. You tensed, resisting the urge to shrink. “Or should I have selected someone more adequate?”

The plasma charge inside you flared, fusing atoms of dread into something deadlier with the affront. Your teeth gnashed, tension breaking your body into trembles under the strain of caution. “N-no, sir.” A muscle in his face twitched. “Please, I was... I w-was just--”

“Perhaps I should return you to General Quinn,” he said. “I’m sure he would be more than accepting of such inferior talents--”

You lunged, and in a single, smooth stroke, you swallowed his cock straight to the base, your body heaving its protest with a soundless convulsion.

A noise strangled in Ren’s throat, and a firm hand slid around the nape of your neck to hold you there, gagging and completely stripped of any capacity for breath. 

It probably would have been too much for you to handle, were it not for the hot sparks of indignation that quickly soldered each fissure in your resolve. Each one forced you to soften, to accept the agonizing incursion, if nothing else just to prove that you could. 

Relax.

Tears welled as you glanced up, funneling all of your willpower into sacrificing your need for breath. Movement was impossible with him holding you there, but the huge hand on the back of your neck spasmed, and your opportunity struck.

Doe-eyed, you gazed up and swallowed, letting your pharynx flex and ripple around the thick head of him just as hot tears spilled over to soak your cheeks, and one hand curled around to cup him by the balls.

You could almost hear something in him snap with the choked roar he let out, and it made your chest swell even as both of his hands coiled roughly into your hair and locked your head back. You met his stare, fire in your own, and gave him a challenging squeeze. In less than a second, your hands were no longer your own, seized by the Force and shackled down to your thighs, just before his hips drew back and oxygen smacked your lungs with a less than pretty sound. 

He gave you no time to recover before his cock was gagging you again, his rhythm punctuated and slow, each thrust forcing submission from your body. Gravel shifted under your knees as you trembled with all of the muscular tension that you redirected away from your jaw, the coarse pain of it serving as a welcome diversion from the intense sensation of having your throat fucked.

Relax. Control yourself.

Wetness began to streak your face, tears and saliva converging on your chin, and the vague thought shimmered in the back of your mind as to what you must look like right now: a slutty mess completely at your commander’s mercy, drawing choked breaths only when he allowed it, tongue fluttering soft and wet under his thick shaft while your clit fucking throbbed between your legs. But from the broken sound that Ren let out as he watched another violent gag roll through you, you’d have thought it was the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed. 

His grunt bottomed out into a snarl as one hand slid out of your hair, his palm turning outwards while two of his fingers began to curl in a salacious motion.

The fluid sensation of the Force coiled and rippled across your clit at his command, its motions just like your own fingers but even better, making your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Ren gave a knowing hum as your moan was choked down into your throat by another thrust of his cock, and a bend of his fingers sent a toe-curling rumble over your swollen bundle of nerves. 

“That’s it, lieutenant.”

The sound of his voice slid down your body, settling low in your belly where your orgasm was starting to simmer again. Even the ache in your jaw began to meld into your pleasure, making your head swim and buzz with the renewed promise of climax.

Ren’s breathing started to crack and falter, coming in half-formed curses through his ribs as he continued to steadily fuck your mouth, and it was clear that he must have been leaning on the edge of closeness for some time as well. You could feel it in the way his cock pulsed on your tongue, the way his stomach began to tense and flex.

Fuck, the thought of it--Kylo Ren, this grand enigma steeped in poise and brutality, a man who could obliterate life with a flex of his hand, was about to pull you apart by the threads, shatter you into pleasure with that same power and cum down your fucking throat. 

The wave of arousal that slammed you was almost maddening, and it was all you could do to flatten your tongue over your teeth and swallow thickly around his cock once more before everything was coiling up tight and fast inside you. 

His voice shot you to the precipice with a gritted out, “Fucking whore, let me f-feel you cum--”

There was a moment before it hit, like the way a seismic charge pulls in all of the sound around it into a single devastating point, and then with a choked sob you shattered, pulses of ecstasy ripping through your body while your cunt spasmed and wept its bliss onto the street with each unrelenting surge of the Force at your clit, wringing convulsions from you until you began to shake from the intensity of your orgasm.

You blinked the fresh tears from your eyes just in time to see Ren snarl above you, jaw tight and hips stuttering as the tension in his body threatened to snap, echoing in a rough pull of your hair. Pain seared your scalp as he pulled you off of his cock just in time for the first jets of his release to coat your tongue.

He groaned, a harsh sound that rivaled your surroundings in its sheer impurity, and he wrenched your head back further, working his length while thick ropes hit your open, gasping mouth, splattering your lips and chin with his bitter taste. He was grunting, swearing, panting through clenched teeth, and then--

Your name. Not your title, not a mocking belittlement of your rank, but your name, cracked through his lips, a desperate sound half-buried in the delirious stream of filth.

Before you could even process what you just heard, he sharply released your hair and stepped back, your invisible restraints dissipating and leaving you to crumple over on yourself, gasping and trembling and painted in cum. 

Slowly, through the ring of pleasure and shock in your ears, you rubbed your sore jaw, before using your fingers to gather the warm mess around your lips. But just when you were about to slip them into your mouth, his voice stopped you, a graveled whisper from the shadows.

“Look at me.”

Breathless, you looked up, suddenly conscious of how plump and stained your face felt as the cool air began to dry the tears on your cheeks. Ren had already adjusted himself to decency, but your walls still fluttered with aftershocks of pleasure at the sight of his huge stature, swelling with deep breaths like a sated, black tide under the moon. You gazed at him in the dim light, holding his stare while you dipped your slippery fingers into your mouth and dutifully sucked the cum off of them, admittedly letting your tongue lick out along your knuckles just a little more than you probably needed to. 

Ren’s nostrils flared, and he took a few strides in your direction. When his hand came out towards your face you flinched, but he simply curled his fingers under your chin and slowly passed his thumb over a spot on your cheek that you had missed, expressionless as he pushed it through your parted lips. He watched you like this for the smallest moment before he drew away again.

Your mind felt blank; wiped and recalibrated by the staggering intensity of whatever your life had become over the past few hours. Exhaustion settled on you with the weight of a freighter. The one thing still tethering you to reality was the sensation of oxygen drawing in and out of your lungs, sweeter now than it had ever felt in your life despite the taste of grease and rust in the air. 

Stiffly, you began to readjust your clothing, pulling your undershirt and coat back over your breasts before beginning the painful process of climbing to your feet. As shaky and sore as they were, your legs somehow supported you, and you managed to wrestle your pants back up over the curve of your ass, only fumbling a little to secure them around your waist. 

For some reason it was only after you were covered again that you even thought to look around the alley, a brief pang of fear seizing your ribs, but it was just as still as when you’d landed. Just as empty, just as quiet. Maybe even moreso.

You glanced back around to Ren where he stood by the connecting beam of the ship’s wing, still and ruminative, a sleek device raised in his hand. After a moment, he pressed a button and spoke into it.

"Report."

A crackle of static peeled through.

“Have eyes, dropping in,” you could faintly hear the voice on the other end say, and a spear of alarm jabbed you back to sudden alertness. Ren's eyes flicked to you, his face stone. 

“Clear to land,” the commander returned through the commlink, before tucking it back into his pocket. 

Your heart pumped uneasily against your ribs, your face surely a canvas of confusion. Ren cast you a blank look before grabbing a metal ridge on the ship and smoothly disappearing into the cockpit again. 

Okay, this was getting unnerving. But the whine of an engine snapped your attention to the sky, where a standard-issue TIE fighter was descending with predatory swiftness upon the alley, its headlights killed, swooping into a hover just behind Ren’s Silencer. Half-shielded by the wing already, you recoiled instinctively into the shadow of it, as if you could find safety in the way it jutted forward like a protective talon.

You jumped when heavy boots hit the ground next to you again, looking up to see a masked Kylo Ren. He watched the other fighter land, standing silently as its cockpit popped open with a whisper of hydraulics. A shadowed figure leapt out, and you took a few steps backwards as it strode in your direction, vaulting the wing-support beam of the Silencer in a smooth motion before coming to a halt in front of the commander.

“Ren,” a dusky voice rasped through the tinny filter of a vocoder. He was masked as well, similar yet altogether different from the commander he addressed; rougher-looking, shrouded in strange black armor. As you stared, his head quirked, the mask tilting to settle on you. “Who’s this?”

[depressedacadamia]

Sore Losers

A/N: This was meant to be a simple one shot but I couldn’t help myself and now it’s a twoshot because I’m extra af. I hope you enjoy it and please comment!

Summary: Percy and Annabeth are both the most competitve people to ever exist by far. So when they both lead teams in a match of Capture the Flag Paintball edition, a very fun game ends up becoming a battle. Annabeth and Percy also happen to be the biggest pair of sore losers out there. 

Word count: 3.8K

Tagging: @showtunesandsolangelo

Chapter I

Let it be known that Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase were both the biggest pair of sore losers on this side of the Atlantic. You’d think that a large group of teenagers at a paintballing park would cause a lot of trouble. Yes, yes they would indeed. But not nearly as much trouble a group of traumatised teenage demigods could cause.

They had 1 rule- don't use any powers.

However, the demigods were never really much good at following rules.

Percy promised Annabeth that his team would win and Annabeth, unable to help herself, boasted back how amazing her team were going to be. It was quite obvious how their fatal flaws- hubris and loyalty- were going to be their downfall in a game of paintball.

“Oi! You two stop flirting and get on the damned bus, would you!” Piper shouted from the window seat with Hazel to her. The yellow bus was warm due to the sunny weather outside and it smelt like teenagers.

“We aren’t flirting!” Annbeth protested violently as she threw her sports bag over her shoulder while climbing the steps. Percy, being the gentleman he was, took the bag off her shoulder and carried it for her- not that it was truly hard.

“Even I can tell that you’re flirting,” Leo called out from the back where his fingers idly fiddled with some copper wire, a battery and a nail- it seemed like he was making an electromagnet.

“Can you blame me if Percy thinks his team is going to win Pipes?” Annabeth turned around in her seat.

“That’s because we are going to win,” Will commented with a hint of sarcasm from the side of the bus where Percy’s team sat. Nico, who sat next to Reyna and was on Annabeth’s team, was more invested in fidgeting with his rings until Will spoke up.

“Says you, traitor,” He snorted.

“Death boy, it’s a game. You chose Annabeth's team- it would be unfair if we were on the same team. Besides, If anything, I should be upset. You chose Annabeth's team after I chose Percy’s!”

Nico refused to answer, his arm clinging to Reyna who barely took notice and smirked at the boy’s ego’s.

“How sad must it be that you genuinely believe that you will win?” Reyna was about to sheath her spear when Hazel put her hand on hers.

“Reyna! We aren’t allowed to bring weapons. We need to prove we can beat them without weapons!” Hazel argued.

“Having second thoughts over there?” Frank called out from beside Jason. Hazel stuck her tongue out at him- he pulled a funny face in return. While these two were considered the most mature, when they were talking to each other, they were no better than 5 year olds.

The venue was huge. It was like an abandoned forest with upside down vehicles, camo everywhere and at least 3 places to get perfectly shot in the head- not that it was allowed. There was a specific reason behind the demigods choosing to go paintballing- they were never trained to use guns. It was something that none of them were familiar in, thus they were all at a completely fair level. Had they been sword fighting, they would have all destroyed each other. They had to pull on protection suits- which were also camouflage.

“Okay, this is to capture the flag but in paintball. You’re all familiar with capturing the flag- the only difference here is instead of our regular weapons, today we have these peculiar things…” Calypso trailed off slightly.

“Guns,” Hazel and Nico finished off together. The entire squad gave an alarmed look at them saying Why in the name of Hades do you know that? In sync, they both replied.

“World War 1,” Hazel sighed.

“Hitler,” Nico grunted, kicking at the floor. A couple of scattered snorts came from the group who could not picture them in the 1900s.

“Enough enemy mingling! Comrades, let us unite to beat the Owls!” Percy commanded his group comedically. Nico raised his eyebrow at the communist joke while everyone laughed slightly.

“I see you’ve learnt something in History- let’s find out if your seaweed brain can figure out how to surrender shall we?” Annabeth challenged as she took steps towards Percy, her hands resting on her hips confidently- Her hubris was showing. She half expected Percy to slip his hand around her waist or try and show off like she did but instead, he turned to his team and began frantically whispering.

The game was so on.

“Okay, this is it. We go in, storm the boys and capture their flag,” Annabeth decided.

“And don't forget to shoot as many of them as you can!” Piper added and the group happily agreed.

“Okay Comrades, Mission ‘infiltrate’ the owls is about to end- when we meet at what I like to call No man's land, we shall take their flag while they attempt to take ours. Will, guard our flag- the rest of you, position ourselves in the formation we discussed earlier. Jason and Leo, you’re my backup soldiers if I’m down,” Percy announced. The boys nodded and prepared for the plan.

Annabeth was crouching, gun in hand with Hazel behind her. Annabeth's blonde hair made her stand out a bit whereas Hazel had a greater advantage- from a vantage point, one wouldn’t even be able to see her. As Annabeth approached through the clearing she froze. Up ahead was a dangerous place. No bushes, no trees, no cars- she’d be totally exposed to whatever Percy was plotting. She did not doubt that he had some person watching this area, ready to release fire on any enemies. Annabeth was going to wait, she crouched by the bush before the clearing and kept her gun pointed and her eyes on the lookout.

She was about to move when paint balls began exploding all around her. The sound ricocheted in her ears and the droplets of paint remained floating about in the air. The boys had planned an ambush! Annabeth knew she had 2 options- retreat and play defensive or attack and play offensive.

“Hazel, you’re in charge. Nico, you’re coming with me. Make sure Reyna is still guarding the flag!” She whisper- shouted as she began running across No Mans Land with Nico trailing close behind her. He may or may not have been using his powers to bring shards of earth encased in shadows to protect himself and Annabeth from the shower of paintballs heading towards them. Nobody really needed to know- besides, he was forbidden from using death powers, not earthly ones.

“Nico, I hear something,” Annabeth warned. The sound of crackling and rushing water surrounded them.

“It’s coming from the creak…,” Nico mumbled.

They both made eye contact, agreeing on a time to run. 3 ,2 ,1- Now! They began sprinting, dodging the rocks and the flames which were scattered across the field. The other team were really going all out and being ruthless. Leo had set half of their frontier on fire that was only being controlled by the fact that Percy had a lot of water coming in from the creak preventing the fire from spreading too far. Flashes of light came striking down on the trees, causing crackles in the trees. There were echoes of thunder rumbling throughout their section and the smell of carbon monoxide slowly rising into the air.

The tree that had been struck by lightning was causing an awful mount of crackling, a bit too much for comfort. It wasn’t until the distinct sound of a tree snapping did Annabeth and Nico realise that the tree in front of them was falling.

Directly. Onto. them.

Back at Annabeth's side of the frontier, Hazel had decided to play dirty and get powers involved. It was only fair, was it not? Piper, Reyna and Calypso were all very happy to oblige to this. They had restructured their battle plan with Piper guarding the flag and using her charmspeak if necessary. Hazel, Calypso and Reyna were at the front, using their powers to their advantage. Reyna had not decided to use her empowerment- it wasn’t necessary and it was never comforting knowing she had made her friends feel brave; she felt like she was manipulating them whenever she did use it.

“So Hazel, what were you saying about not using weapons?” Reyna raised an eyebrow as she impressively pulled out her spear of imperial gold, glimmering in the sunlight. Hazel who sheathed her Spatha simply shrugged.

“Calypso are you ready?” Hazel asked, slightly concerned- she didn't want to overwork her so quickly after she had only just started to get her magic back.

“You think I’m going to let Leo win?” She scoffed slightly as she raised her hands slightly, the magical aura around them visible.

“We have a battle to win,” Reyna announced.

Nico grabbed onto Annabeth and closed his eyes. She felt herself slip into the darkness with Nico- the moment was awful. Dark, cold and creepy whisperings surrounded her. She did not want to know how Nico was able to do that. As he pulled them out the shadows, Nico dropped to his knees, trying to catch his breath. His eyes looked significantly tired post- shadow travelling.

“Don’t tell Will, he’ll go crazy if he found out that I shadow travelled,” he said weakly, his hand clutching his ribs. Annabeth slowly helped him up to his feet, only one gun still with the both of them- Nico had dropped his when he had to shadow travel them.

“Nico, I’ve got another plan if you’re up for it,” Annabeth offered. She leaned over and whispered her strategy. The corners of Nico’s lips twisted upwards into a cruel smile- cold and menacing. Was this plan extremely dangerous if one part went wrong? Probably. But Nico decided he liked the idea of winning too much to really care.

He dug his feet into the ground again, pushing every ounce of energy into controlling the shadows. He needed to keep this accurate- too much and Hazel’s side of the field goes dark, too little and Percy’s team will be able to see what's coming.

Slowly, shadows covered every inch of Percy’s field. Nico and Annabeth were grasping onto each other, Nico was holding onto her for strength while Annabeth was staying with the only person who could control what was happening. The only light that was visible were the fires ignited by Leo but by now, they were weak. All they had to do was wait for a figure to light up their hands- all the members would flock to the light, except whoever was protecting the flag.

“What just happened?” Percy yelled as he followed the stream of water that led to the fires.

“Someone’s using their powers… probably Nico, I can hear whisperings and these shadows are really cold!” Leo responded, lifting his hands up to signal his location to his teammates- though that may have not been a good idea. A giant flash of light came striking down to the ground again and the loud rumble of thunder came soon after, only adding to the creepiness of the game.

“It’s definitely Nico using powers which means he’s somehow gotten through our borders,” Jason gritted out. They all looked at each other agreeing to search for the son of Hades.

“Nico, you can summon the skeletons now, right?” Annabeth asked as she supported Nico on her shoulder. Feebly, Nico nodded while trying to summon some of his own strength. His skin which had almost returned to it’s olive hue was now close to a deathly pale. Annabeth could feel his cold fingers and slightly shivered- it was like holding a corpse. The ground started cracking, the earth splitting open as a skeletal arm reached out, climbing into the real world. Within a minute, Nico had summoned enough skeletons for the plan to work.

Annabeth knew what had to happen next- she would either run after the flag or go drive the remainder of Percy’s team far back enough so that her team could attack them from behind. She cherished the idea of getting the flag, a truly victorious moment, but she knew that if she went after the flag, she’d be sending Nico who seemed as fragile as glass right now to go fight 4 of the most powerful demigods. She decided to take her chances- hopefully whoever was guarding the flag wasn’t too hard for Nico.

“Nico, here take the gun and go after the flag. I will push back the other team.”

“I don’t need that- you’re going to be 4 against one, take it.” He batted his hand, refusing to allow Annabeth to hand over her gun to him.

“Nic-”

“-If you want to actually win this, you need your gun. You don’t stand a chance fighting 4 of them alone. Take the gun,” He managed to snap. Annabeth actually smiled at this. If Nico could give her snappy comebacks, then he still had a bit of strength in him. She kept her gun as she ran into the shadows, the skeleton army close behind.

“Does the other side look kinda funny?” Hazel asked, tilting her head to the side with her spatha in hand.

“It’s...it’s dark. I can't see anything there,” Calypso responded, slightly shocked.

What in the name of the gods was going on over there?

It seemed that the answer hit Reyna and Hazel at the same time- Nico! Not that they were about to admit it, but they were a tad concerned- you know, if you saw pure shadows just floating about, you would also be slightly concerned.

“We should move ourselves further up the frontier into No Mans Land. Annabeth must have planned something with Nico.” Calypso announced. They all agreed and moved further downwards, cautious for any ambushes.

“Oh Annabeth, aren’t you meant to be the smart one? You know, daughter of Athena?” Percy mockingly asked as she approached them, the shadows encasing most of her but not enough to go unnoticed. The skeletons however, were hiding perfectly in the dark.

“And where is the little shit?” Jason looked around Annabeth, trying to see if Nico had hid himself among the shadows- something that wouldn’t be too hard for him.

“Technically this is cheating,” Leo pointed out. Annabeth snapped her head towards him, still wondering where the skeletons were.

“We weren’t the ones who started it- if I remember correctly, you literally almost crushed us under a tree.”

“That was an accident,” Jason sheepishly rubbed his head.

“Don't think you can walk in here without being defeated, Wise girl.”

“If all 4 of you are going to fight me, I think all guns should be prohibited- does that sound fair Jackson?”

“3. All 3 of us. Frank has been… patrolling.” Leo rubbed his hands mysteriously. Annabeth wanted to gasp, they had been cheating from the beginning, using Frank as surveillance on them.

“Well since you were cheating from the very beginning, you definitely cannot use your guns,” Annabeth protested, enforcing her plan. The boy shrugged and threw their guns to the floor- Annabeth did the same but the gun was still close enough for… a change of heart. Fire raged from Leo’s hands, Percy had Riptide in hand and Jason had his Gladius, the charge of lighting running through it. Annabeth had to try to not visibly gulp- Where on earth were the skeletons? Here getting toasted was not part of the plan. She could only start to take them one when the distraction was set.

Nico forcibly pushed his foot one in front of another, searching for the flag. The entire half of the arena was covered like a blanket. The only light source being Leo’s fire and the occasional fires that Nico let loose through the ground to help him see. Up head, Nico could see another light source- did he just walk himself into a circle? He couldn’t see Leo or any fires. In fact all he really saw was light.

Light?

He trudged forwards, keeping to the shadows. As he got closer, he realised the light source was Will- his skin was the lightsource, literally. It was like he was watching a firefly for the first time- Will was glowing! No, focus Nico. The game, the flag. Capture it and reign victorious with Annabeth.

“Frank, dude, get off my shoulder,” Jason said. As the hand remained on his shoulder, Jason grew slightly agitated and turned around before jumping back and letting out a scream of surprise. Catching the attention of Percy and Leo, the skeletons began to close in on them. Now was Annabeth's chance. While the skeletons pushed them back, hopefully Hazel would have the team ready for an ambush on all sides.

“You’re very shiny today,” Nico commented.

“Well if you didn’t plunge us into semi- eternal darkness, I wouldn’t be a night light,” Will retorted crossing his arms.

“I’ve always wanted my own personal nightlight. Also now, I have an actual justification to call you sunshine- you’re literally glowing.”

“Quit laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you… I’m just stealing,” Nico shrugged as he made a dash for the flag. Will scrambled for his gun but it was too late, Nico had pulled the flag into the shadows- the paintballs from Will’s gun had only hit the tree that Nico had once stood in front of. As Nico emerged from his travelling, the shadows that once covered the entire field started fading.

With their guns strapped to their backs, Hazel and the team made their way across No Mans Land- trying to avoid the shower of paintballs from the other side.

“You made a machine gun out of this?” Hazel asked in dismay as she dodged the fireball coming from Leo.

“I am Admiral Leo, of course I made a machine gun, Hazel.”

“Hazel, on your left!”

Hazel swiftly ducked a paintball coming her left which proceeded to hit Leo square in the chest. He groaned as he felt the bruise start to form across his chest. Saddened by getting hit, he fell to the ground dramatically.

“Oh I’m wounded! Tell Calypso I might not make it!”

“Tell her yourself,” a voice snorted. Jason and Reyna were both fighting- Jason’s gladius would come down harshly onto Reyna’s spear, who continuously tried to disarm him. When Jason came down again with his sword, Reyna twisted her spear towards the hilt and pushed the butt of her spear upwards successfully disarming the sword with a clatter from his hands. She placed her foot on the sword and kicked it backwards, away from Jason before she dropped her spear.

“Hand to hand?” Jason asked. Reyna did not reply and instead charged towards him.

Calypso was trying to not get set on fire- while Leo had been shot, he was not about to let her win so easily. Her magic could only do so much and it annoyed her that Leo was setting everything on fire.

“Calypso, don’t you have telekinesis?” Annabeth shouted nodding towards Leo as she dodged another slash from Percy. Calypso got the memo and closed her eyes, harvesting as much power as she could. Being an ex-titaness came with it’s privileges from time to time. She opened her eyes and flung her hands towards Leo. Easily, she threw him into the creek where he landed with an ‘oomph’ and a very loud curse word that will not be repeated.

Piper hated being the guard. Everyone was probably having a blast and here she was, away from the action. There was a buzzing noise that was annoying her and she really did not want to deal with it. She had one of her daggers clutched in her hand while the gun was slung over her shoulder. She had gotten so bored that she had resorted to talking to the crow opposite her who had just sat there. It would tilt its head every once in a while when she said anything that could be deemed controversial.

Suddenly, the crow flew towards her, as to rest on her shoulder but instead, went towards the flag. Nothing wrong there, just a crow going towards a flag. Afterall it wasn’t as if it was trying to pull it out of the ground. Just as Piper turned around to see what the crow was really doing, she caught Frank with his hand wrapped around the flag, smiling and saluting towards her as he turned around and ran, flag in hand. Piper swore she had run as fast she ever had in her entire life, trying to get her charmspeak to work. The panting did not help her.

Annabeth slashed her knife in Percy’s direction, missing him by a millimeter as he stepped back to avoid it. Riptide came back at her, instead of it going for a blow to the chest as she expected, Percy aimed for her feet. As he wanted, she tripped and fell but her knife was still in hand. Just as she was about to use it, Riptide was held under her chin- she could feel the cool metal of it as Percy smirked and lightly teased her neck with it.

“You know Miss Brainiac, you really have yourself in a bad position, giving up would be easy, wouldn't it?”

“Jackson, you are enjoying this too much. I think you’ve forgotten the point.” Annabeth grabbed Riptide and twisted it before roling backwards slightly and throwing herself forwards. The sword clattered to the ground making Percy pout slightly but he wasn’t disheartened. Annabeth backslashed towards Percy who grabbed her arm, rendering the weapon in hand useless.

Annabeth had one last plan.

She leaned forwards and pressed her lips against Percy. It was quick and daring and Percy certainly did not expect it. Their lips met gently- it was comforting, warm and soft. Their lips brushed and when she pulled away lightly, he could taste her chapstick.

“Ouch!” Percy yelped as he jumped away from Annabeth and let go of her wrist. She held the knife under his chin and winked at Nico who held the gun with the flag under his arm. There was a giant yellow splatter on his back.

“That's not fair!” Percy sputtered. “ You seduced me!”

“All's fair in love and war.” Annabeth winked.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got the flag!” Frank gasped slightly- mainly due to being out of breath. He looked at Jason who was on the ground, Leo who was soaking, Percy who had a massive paintball splatter on his back and then at Nico who was holding the flag.

“We planned this. To make you win. We were taking it easy on you guys,” Frank decided. All the boys nodded in agreement only making Annabeth's teams chuckle.

[forbidden-bathbombs]

Closed starter for @umkar-apprentice-of-healer (that doubles as Phe's backstory)

Setting: Battle of Killahead Bridge

Cries of war and of pain were mixing together with the metal clashing of weapons, dull thudding of bodies, and the sickening sound of crumbling stone. Everything around her was so loud, moving so fast, she had no idea what was happening anymore except that it was very bad.

Ophelia swung her weapon, aimlessly, just hoping she'd hit something. Hoping it'd be an enemy.

She did not want to be there.

"Yer a troll, kid. Trolls fight. It's in our nature."

Her old mentor's words echoed in her mind as she tried to pull herself together. Ever since all the way back when he'd taken her in, he'd constantly lectured her about how un-troll-like she was. And she definitely had to be more troll-like. But even though she was doing her best, she'd become disoriented a while ago, and it was very hard to get back into the moment without getting speared.

Phe hadn't wanted to join the battle. She didn't know any of these trolls, and when the fight had broken out not far from her and her Vu's temporary camp, her instinct had been to run. But Vu hadn't let her, he'd insisted it was their duty to help.

"Trolls aren't cowards. We never run from a good battle."

Maybe it was their duty. To him, those trolls were comrades. He used to live with them before he left to become a lone traveler, and perhaps he felt he owed them. And maybe being his friend made her owe them too. But that 'trollish nature' Vu always talked about, Phe was pretty sure she didn't have it.

He'd made her learn how to wield a weapon, how to defend herself, because that's what trolls do. And she didn't understand it, but he was the first troll she'd ever met, and if he said so, it had to be true. She was a troll, even if she hadn't been raised like one.

"Us trolls belong on the battlefield."

She didn't want to be there, but she'd do all she could to make him proud.

Vu had trained her for this, countless times. Never against more than one opponent, but Phe did know how to block and parry, so if only she could single out an enemy-

After a couple of attempts, she managed to get in a good hit, knocking some Gumm-Gumm to the ground, only for him to be trampled by another group of squabbling trolls. Vu had always said her first success in battle would feel triumphant, but it didn't. It made her feel sick to her stomach, and she turned away, lying to herself that the troll she'd struck down would be fine, pretending she couldn't hear the breaking of stone.

Then, without warning, a fist came at her from the side, knocking the breath right out of her as she hit the ground hard. For a few seconds, her vision went black. When it returned, she wished it hadn't.

Her ears still ringing from the powerful blow, the young troll found herself facing the largest Gumm-Gumm she'd ever seen, glowing runes decorating his obsidian stone body. Gunmar the Black. The leader of them all.

Oh, how she wanted to run.

Trolls don't run from a fight. A troll would rather die.

Trying her hardest not to tremble, Ophelia picked herself up from the ground, clutching her weapon. She could do this. She was meant to do this. She was a troll, not a human. Trolls fight.

And so, she charged.

The next moments were a blur, her memory later skewed by pain and fear. Pain, especially. His blade slashing her face, his claws raking upon her skin as he pinned her to the ground. Screaming, her own, as he placed his hoof on her tail, crushing it under his weight.

Then, another hand grabbed her, pulled her out of the dark king's grasp, and flung her aside. Blinking, Ophelia saw her mentor, a large, albino troll, block the Gumm-Gumm's blade, roaring a challenge. The battle had not been easy on him so far - he was limping, several bits of his stone were missing and it appeared as if he had trouble keeping himself upright. But he didn't waver as he raised his sword against Gunmar, attacking him with all of his might and trollish fighting spirit.

Distracting him.

The elder, seasoned warrior put up a good fight. Of course he did - he was a troll, after all. But even he was no match for Gunmar the Skullcrusher.

And Ophelia got to find out where Gunmar had earned that title, just before her body gave in to the pain and she lost consciousness, her broken body collapsed in the middle of the battlefield.

[gloamingdawn]

Chapter 2

Prologue

Chapter 1

Lyn realized in an instant how much she stuck out against the black and gray rock; it had meant a lot to her that Eyir had turned the original dark armor that she’d been made by the other women in Skold Ashil, a joke about her ‘black sheep’ nature among them, golden. But now it seemed a disadvantage.

A subtle shift in the air to her right drew her attention as an almost imperceptible hum filled the space nearby. Ve’nari’s projection flickered into life and didn’t even wait a beat, “How fortuitous! You just happened to be transferred to a location in which I have a certain... interest. Place the aural sequencers I gave you and I will attempt to establish a functional signal. Such a perilous location will require the utmost discretion. You will want to use your ethereal cloak to avoid being seen.”

Right. The cloak and the sequencers. She felt the keyhole eye of the Broker’s face fixated on her as she pulled the item out of the equipment pouch on her bag and slung it back around her shoulders, hoping that it worked. With luck, placing the sequencers would help her scout the place out and find living Val’kyr — if any remained. Having an idea of how to get around the winding paths would help out the mercenary group later if they were ever sent there at any rate.

Lyn found a few stable handholds in the rocks she’d materialized on and wound her way down the small cliff-side, careful to keep an eye on the Maldraxxi patrols that wandered past her on the road. None of them paid a single lick of attention to her and she let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding as her boots touched the ground with the quiet rattle of metal on stone.

Slipping past potential threats unknown made the chore pass by with surprising swiftness; Each of the sequencers was placed in what felt like the correct spot before Lyn slipped off again, doing her best to stay conveniently hidden from view. It was the fourth and final drop that literally struck gold.

A trail of brilliant feathers littered the ground, heading toward what looked like the edge of the place. Southeast, if she had to slap an Azerothian direction on it. The projection of Ve’nari crackled into the space next to her again, the Broker’s lilting voice cutting in. Whatever it was she said, Lyn hadn’t heard. She had to save whoever was left here, if anyone. That was her task, not whatever this stranded, inter-dimensional trader wanted. She took off again, following the fallen feathers down a winding path as quick as she could.

It was hard to miss the glowing, golden Sunborne Val’kyr suspended above the ground like a bird in a cage, just past the dais littered with the corpses of their sisters and her — Helya — presiding over whatever ceremony. They’d all had names, a purpose in death, and now they’d been snuffed out for eternity. Not this one, not if she could help it.

Lyn wound her way past supplicant Mawsworn Val’kyr and Vyraz’ chosen; As she stepped in behind the cage, trying to get cover before dropping the cloak, the Sunborne’s visor tipped in her direction and a bright smile — perhaps the first she’d worn in this place — dawned across the trapped woman, “My heart rejoices to see a noble face in this realm of nightmare!”

There was palpable hope in the trapped Val’kyr’s voice, and Lyn couldn’t help but smile back, “Eyir sent me to free you and whoever else remained… Who keeps the keys, Danica?” They had never met, but Lyn knew her name. It sifted up through her memory as if she’d always known; but why wouldn’t she? They were sisters, connected by death and their great Lady’s design.

Danica pressed down toward the bottom of the cage, bringing herself closer to her would-be rescuer to keep her from having to speak too loudly, “You are the Alvilda... Keeper Odyn must be warned of this foul betrayal! The Mawsworn called Kjellrun holds the seal that can free me. You can find her gloating in the nearby hall.”

Lyn glanced back over her shoulder toward the arched metal passage that led down into the dark below before looking back to her sister with a sharp nod, summoning her spear to her hand with purpose, “I’ll be back before she takes you, I promise.” She turned and ran, traversing the stairs two at a time. The ethereal cloak’s magic allowed her to skirt past the guards as unseen as before.

Kjellrun stood at the back of the room, surrounded by the bodies of other dead Val’kyr. If she could get behind the towering, twisted facsimile of the Maw’s dark version this would be over quickly. The Light would still answer her call here, she could feel it warm in her chest — waiting. As soon as she got into a favorable position she lunged forward, ramming the spear directly through the center of the Mawsworn’s chest armor with a blaze of golden magic.

Helya’s Val’kyr clamped a gauntleted hand down on the spear’s blade and turned her head to glance back at the now visible paladin, the hollow eyes of the mask locking with Lyn’s own. The weapon disappeared before her adversary could snap the shaft, sent away with another pass of magic before Lyn summoned it back into her hand again to focus a gout of holy flame in a sweeping arc from the tip in a frantic frenzy. These were dead creatures, and a slight miscalculation could be covered up by dumping retribution and fury into every strike.

It wasn’t a subtle light show, and she heard the panicked shouts of the Maldraxxi posted as guards further up the corridor. Kjellrun swiped at Lyn, raking the sharpened black metal fingertips of her gauntlet across the smaller woman’s face and spattering blood across the wall and floor. She’d feel it later — for now, she had an opening and Lyn pressed it. There wasn’t time to fuck around.

Lyn threw her body weight behind ramming her weapon up and into the skeletal visor with a howl of challenge, pitching Kjellrun’s head back. The dark Val’kyr twitched and shuddered, clawing at the spear with futility before dying again, abruptly. Lyn grabbed the seal hanging around her neck and pulled, severing the chain and pulling the taller creature further onto her spear for good measure.

The guards' footfalls were getting closer still, she could hear them over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears and the throbbing across her forehead, nose and cheek. She had to go. Lyn snatched the ethereal cloak up off the ground where it had fallen off her shoulders in the scuffle and threw it back on hastily, the magic immediately taking hold. Vyraz’s men didn’t even notice her as she ducked past them, their realization of failure echoing off the walls as she ran.

As soon as she was within reach of Danica’s cage she tossed the seal up onto the floor, and her sister’s spectral hand closed around it with triumph. The metal groaned and shifted, the door opening as the seal made contact with the magical lock. As soon as the Sunborne Val’kyr was free she unfurled her wings, stretching them out for what must’ve been the first time in a while. Lyn let the cloak slide down to the dusty ground, there was no point for subtly anymore, and if they were going to make a stand it might as well be—

“I mourn the loss of my sisters and desire nothing more than to avenge them. Yet I know that I am no match for the witch's magics or her army of Mawsworn. We must let wisdom guide us and fly from here. Though I am weak from my captivity, I have the strength to leave this place if you fly with me. Let us go, sister,” Danica kept her voice hushed as she cut off Lyn's train of thought, but she was right.

Not that Lyn thought she could fly, but stranger things had happened. Helya turned her gaze on them both with one of her harsh cackles, another dark Mawsworn taking point in the sky as the body of a spent Sunborne fell to the ground. Lyn grit her teeth and dug deep, activating Ashildir’s gift as Danica’s hand clamped around her arm.

The transition was always odd back on Azeroth, but here it was worse. As golden wings sprouted from her back and the token visor appeared in place on her own spectral Val’kyr form, she could see them all — hundreds of thousands of flickering souls, scattered across the Maw. Trapped, bound to this hellish plane where so many of them weren’t meant to be. If she had breath in this body, she knew it would’ve hitched in her chest at the horror of it all, but all Lyn felt was a terrible sorrow.

Danica pulled her up with a sharp tug, and it shook her out of her thoughts long enough to remember that they had to go. Helya snarled a message at them both and cast the scroll toward them with a magic that flickered an unsettling blue-black. Poison to deliver to Odyn. The first of them, the cursed sea witch, Lyn felt sorrow for her, too.

“Skyja! See them out.”

It wasn’t to be a friendly escort. Danica’s wings start to beat and Lyn focused. She’d never used her own wings in this form before, it had always been a measure to stave off death just a little longer, but wasn’t that what this was, too?

As the Mawsworn dove toward them, she and her sister flew out and away — the pair of them supporting each other as they tore through the Maw, into the In Between, and then toward Skyhold.

[ishgardianrose]

FFXIV WRITE - Day One: Foster

Gareth Hyland, twelve winters old, stared down at his shaking hands. He glared, willed them to be steady, mouth full of the bitter taste of humiliation. Everyone who had come to observe the sparring matches had seen what had happened. He silently prayed his father, the renowned dragoon Erik Hyland, had not been among the crowd of knights.

“There you are, Gareth!” the ever cheerful voice of his best friend and fellow knight-in-training, Jourdain Benoit, sounded near his elbow.

Gareth rolled his shaking hands into fists and let out a long breath.

Jourdain sat down beside him and held an apple out towards him, gifting him his trademark grin. Gareth flicked a glance towards the apple and then away, his countenance darkening.

“I do not deserve it.”

“Come now, Gareth! It’s happened to all of us,” Jourdain said.

“…Really?

“Well…usually not instantly,” Jourdain admitted a bit sheepishly.

Gareth frowned down at his knees. He was seated on a stone bench, facing a small garden that overlooked a sheer drop into mist and the half-concealed fangs of rooftops. The day was shading towards evening, and he was eager for the stars to appear, to lose himself in their calming glow. In truth, Gareth wanted to be alone. Usually he was glad for Jourdain’s company, but right now the elezen’s presence was only deepening the pit of Gareth’s humiliation.

As if sensing Gareth’s wish for silence, Jourdain’s usual energetic presence whittled into something quieter and more contained. He placed the apple down beside Gareth while juggling his own between his hands. A clear sign that Jourdain was thinking, but had not yet found the right words.

“…Was my father there?” Gareth asked, finally giving breath to the fear that had been pricking at him since the defining moment of that day.

“I didn’t see him,” Jourdain said.

“Oh…” An unexpected pang struck Gareth. His brow furrowed as he stared ahead, gaze narrow but unfocused. He should be relieved. Instead, he only felt a deep disappointment. Of course, Father had not been there. Gareth knew he was not worthy yet of his attention. Father was an important dragoon with important matters that required his care. He never looked in on Gareth’s training.

Gareth’s shoulders curled, and his eyes started to sting. He should be relieved. It was bad enough that Jourdain, many of the other boys and girls in training, and a handful of well-regarded knights had seen Gareth’s miserable failure.

Gareth had been so excited when he heard they were to participate in sparring matches that day. Nervous. Terrified, even. But excited. His hands had started to tremble the moment he clutched his training spear, but he was convinced he was ready. Heart pounding, he had fallen into his well-practiced stance, tightened his well-practiced grip. Faced down his mentor, determined to do something to make his father proud. And then the lance had been wrested from his grasp in the first blow. It was over, just like that, and that stupid kid, Gaspard, was laughing at him. And some of the knights were laughing too.

Gareth rubbed his arm quickly across his eyes, trying to fight back the sharp sting.

“Hey, listen,” Jourdain started.

Gareth peered over at him morosely.

“Let’s spar,” Jourdain said firmly, the apple no longer bouncing between his palms, but now gripped in one determined fist. He glanced over at Gareth and sighed.  “Don’t give me that look! I want to spar. Let’s go. We can eat later.”

“Why are you mocking me like this?”

“I’m not! When have I ever?” Jourdain said, jumping to his feet and glaring. “Come on. Let’s go. I know you’re stronger than everyone thinks. You beat me at knuckles last time we played. You can hold your lance for longer than one swing, can’t you?”

“Of—Of course I can!” Gareth shouted defensively and stood.

Jourdain met the hyur’s glare with a challenging smirk. “Then, come on! If you win, you get both apples. See how sure I am that you’re going to lose?”

Gareth’s glare grew fierce. “Those apples are mine!”

“Let’s see if you can live up to your words,” Jourdain urged. And then he ran off towards the training grounds.

Gareth ran after him, determined to prove himself, encouraged by his friend’s belief.

[starshavegoneastray]

For Glory

Gladiator AU // b.c.

CW // blood, excessive bleading, death/dying, impaling, open wounds, violence, weapons, death as entertainment, animal skins

2,132 Words

SEVEN foot tall, menacing grin, and a sword underneath a strong grip.

THE battle was expected to be another bloodbath, at least that’s what Felix had in mind. Hyunjin eyed the excited younger boy sitting next to him on the cubiculum seats, a knuckle against his cheek. He couldn’t make sense as to why Felix would be this thrilled for one more gladiator fight that would guarantee an obvious result. Even before the match began, Hyunjin had already considered dozing off and waking up with The Secutor — the gigantic seven-foot-tall fighter in rustic chainmail and slightly oxidized bronze helmet — as the winner of today’s unethical battle.

“Don’t sleep on me this time too,” Felix chirped in the midst of the noisy crowd filling up the arena. “I want you to actually watch this one.”

Watch? Another absolute win? Hyunjin lifted his head, heaving slowly as he did so. “You’re bringing a mere human into his death.” Hyunjin spoke bluntly, confidence tainted his voice so, and was sure of the outcome anyhow it might go. “Let me ask, why are you so persistent that this person you managed to bribe over 100 silvers could even match The Secutor?”

Felix stayed silent; his lips pursed tight as he turned to look at the arena down below. “Bang Chan isn’t just some person.” There was an emphasis on the first two words, it rubbed Hyunjin in a way he didn’t like too much, yet he kept calm and let his royal friend have faith on this Bang Chan.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms underneath the velvet cape that blanketed his left shoulder. “If this person was indeed more capable than that of mere soldiers, how come I’ve never heard of him?”

Felix’s reply was a simple shrug, before facing towards the silver-locked Hyunjin with a confident smirk. His golden flower circlet tilted to the side as he did so before the horns blew an entrance for the challenger.

ONE-EYED, an outcast, and an unregistered regalia sheathed behind his back.

THIS person came in like an ant in the eyes of the viewers on their seats. His hair was a bloody mess, but still allowed the scar over his left eye to see the guests that flooded the arena. A dark leather garment wrapped underneath a layer of wolf’s fur hanging on one side of his shoulder. He appeared to be an experienced fighter from the marks that color his bare arm. And amongst the roaring crowd and threatening gaze of The Secutor before him, Bang Chan seemed very relaxed.

“Interesting fashion.” Commented Hyunjin, as he took a peek at Felix’s hopeful expression before exhaling silently under his breath, almost scoffing at how easy for this mere human flesh and bones to get squashed by an average warrior that towers almost twice his own size.

Bang Chan started to move closer towards the giant. Striding two, and then three, and then four steps ever so casually, stopping just as The Secutor swung the tip of his weapon to warn the little man. Crowds began to cheer and shout, some mocking their way over to the new challenger’s way. Almost half of them made fun of how this match seemed unfair to begin with, and wouldn’t bet their precious silver and gold on something unsatisfying.

“Go home!” someone from Hyunjin’s far left, perhaps, shouted in the midst of the hectic viewers. While a group on the other side of the stadium began to choir an incoherent boo chorus, which almost received Hyunjin’s small chuckles.

But despite the never-ending protests of the guests, it didn’t stop the two men in their white tunics seated on the lowest tier of the referee’s chair to blow their horns, signaling the start of the futile battle this summer.

The Secutor strides along the outskirts of the field, keeping a hunting gaze under that rusty helmet at the daring young man. His frown deepened as Bang Chan did the same, only this time his right arm reached up before clutching onto a leather-bound handle of his sword then pulling it out in one swift move.

A clean blade, one that slightly curved at the tip with a sharp point kissing the sandy grounds. The golden square guard on its hilt was engraved with various shapes that all seemed familiar for Hyunjin, though witnessed from afar. Dark leather grip hidden underneath Chan’s hold, and an emerald pommel crested just below his fist. At a glance, anyone could mistake it for a common blade of another kingdom, but Hyunjin had suspected something else. It was no ordinary blade, at least these items couldn’t possibly be owned by any ordinary people.

There was no fear in any of Chan’s movements, not even when he began stepping forth again, dragging a thin line across the floor before The Secutor lunged a bigger step towards him. A humongous dagger on The Secutor’s hand looked more like a sword in everyone’s eyes. Chan leaped back, dodging another danger zone as the gigantic enemy roared forward, swinging his sword right where Chan’s nose would cut through, but the latter ducked and tackled the large blade with his.

The Secutor quickly belted his sword the opposite direction, Chan swung as well, their two metals clashed as another attack failed to scratch the younger man. But Chan was too focused on the blade to dodge a sudden kick to his stomach, sending him off and crashing the wall like a gust of wind.

The crowds began to cheer again, Hyunjin leaned back onto his chair, raising an eyebrow.

It didn’t take long for Chan to get back on his feet, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened around his regalia. Not once has his facial expression changed, not even when the giant pulled a spear from a broken crate next to him; probably the result of yesterday’s fight. Chan tried to approach again, but returned to his previous spot when The Secutor aimed the spear at his feet then rushed at full speed. He was trying to corner Chan.

The Secutor stepped forth, Chan stepped back. Their blades struck over and over to tire him out, enough for the bigger enemy to graze his dagger on Chan’s left shoulder. Throwing the furry coat he had in the process. The Secutor kept swinging his blade left then right, Chan seemed to follow. But not for long until the giant carved another graze on his right thigh.

“He’s going to die.” The statement sounded casual coming from Hyunjin’s lips, as if it were to provoke Felix’s poor choice on selecting a champion. The method seemed to work as the young prince began to scrutinize the arena, gripping hard at the stone wall until the tips of his fingers turned red and his face wrinkled with determination. Yet, Felix stayed silent.

Hyunjin averted his gaze from The Secutor towards the messy Chan. His bicep and knee trickled with blood, a bruise to his cheek just under his grey eye, and a tight hold wrapping the leather grip of his stupid regalia. It wouldn’t be long before the winner’s announcement, Hyunjin was convinced, training his eyes back towards the giant gladiator as he brought his blood-painted sword closer to the small Bang Chan. The second Hyunjin blinked, suddenly The Secutor stumbled backwards.

Dirt covered Chan’s palm and a cloud of dust hung midair just in between him and The Secutor, whose cuss and grunts echoed loudly whilst trying to remove something from his sight. Chan sheathed the sword on his back and went for the spear that once attacked him a few minutes ago, running towards the giant then slashed the length of the giant’s arms using the sharp tip. The Secutor started bleeding too now, his eyes red from the dirt Chan threw mixed with outrage, as he ran with the sword above his head. Chan casually ran his left palm on the ground, gathering another handful of dirt before speeding forward, stepping onto a wooden crate, jumped and bombed another cloud of brown sand and blood on The Secutor’s face. Instinctively, he shielded himself, but the defense bought Chan enough time to whack his spear upwards. Another scar now painting the opponent's forearm and chin up to his lower lip.

Chan jabbed forward, The Secutor moved backward. The humongous dagger flung side to side, eventually snapping the wooden spear off its tip. But Chan held onto the weapon, his left bloody arm reached back for his regalia and pursued the opposing corner.

When the regalia struck, it hit the giant’s sword, and Chan was sent flying backwards, centered on the field. Suddenly, a shadow casted upon him, and The Secutor was above ground, landing right where Chan stood with a thud and dirt flying around his feet.

Hyunjin didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath all this time. He didn’t expect the spear would backfire on The Secutor, nor scratch him to begin with; count Bang Chan’s dirt play. The suspense dropped a weight down his stomach when the giant warrior didn’t move. Had he killed Bang Chan, he would have stood tall and revealed the man in broken bones and shredded skin, thus claiming victory.

A crowd down below the lower tiers choired a gasp, pointing their fingers at the thinning sandy ashes. And as the dusty powder subsided, Hyunjin couldn’t believe what he’s witnessing.

Bang Chan was on the ground, holding the wooden spear on leverage where its broken end punctured The Secutor right on the gut. The gigantic dagger barely missed, leaving only a small cut on the little man’s right temple. The bigger man staggered, the wood still caught on his stomach and blood seeping out of his rusty chainmail. Eventually, he fell onto his knee, holding onto the wood in an attempt to pull it out of his gut. But a series of quick steps followed by Chan’s grip at the end of the wooden stick took him by surprise.

A mischievous grin tugged at Chan’s lips, before he forced the wood deeper into The Secutor’s abdomen. The sharp end pierced into his stomach, he started coughing blood. Any deeper and his eyes would start popping out of their sockets crying red tears. So, Chan twisted as he pushed, The Secutor hollered in pain when the wood was halfway in, and ruptured through his spine.

At this point the crowd had gone ballistic and chaotic, and the referees should have stopped the match as one fighter had been severely injured. But no horns were blown and the viewers demanded an encore.

Bang Chan quietly took in the noises that filled the arena. People who once spat his name, telling him to go home; they were praising him now, jumping and cheering out loud, glorifying the way he took down the giant like it was the work of an incredible sorcery.

A mere human, perhaps a divine outcast from a far land, foreign to the ways of an average gladiator, took down a warrior almost double his size. The Secutor had been known as a massive killer with no mercy in the battlegrounds. But that day marked the end of his decade-long title, as Chan raised the regalia over his head, striking a curved blow from above across The Secutor’s esophagus, an area free from a helmet’s protection.

He gurgled, coughed, then choked as he bled uncontrollably from his throat. Red liquid gushed rapidly, staining the area where it pooled beneath the giant until he eventually fell to his demise on a puddle of pitiless crimson fluid.

Victory had never reeked like iron as much; this stench only came from someone who scavenged for more than just winning, or a golden flower crown on the head.

The horns blew aloud, the crowd hailed victory songs, waving their tunics, throwing their wreaths and flower petals his way. Pay little attention to the dead man in the middle of the yellow field, instead triumphing over this stranger’s unbelievable achievement.

Glory.

Felix dropped to his seat with the loudest sigh he could give, before jumping back up punching the air. “Yes! What I tell you!” But it all blurred away from Hyunjin’s attention span as he leaned forward the stone wall, lips pursed and brows knitting together with only one thought in his mind.

As if he could hear them, Chan turned to face the cubiculum seats above, eyes meeting with Hyunjin’s astonished ones. A healing scar sitting across his greying orb, the other one a bright haunting shade of blue that sent shivers down Hyunjin’s spine. Hyunjin chuckled, and if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Chan’s bloodied lip tucked sideways on a smirk before walking away with the sheathed sword behind his broad back.

“Who are you, Bang Chan?”

[mirageofthecrystal]

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 17: Destruct

destruct (verb, noun)

cause deliberate, irreparable damage to

the deliberate causing of terminal damage.

A single moment is all it takes.

A single space between breaths can equate to all the time in the world, as ones world comes crashing to its utter end.

A single moment of hesitation can spell doom and disaster for one, life and prosperity for another.

On the third morning of the Siege of Whitebrim Front, that moment would come for Faiolan and his comrades. The dragons were unrelenting. The soldiers had barely any time to sleep, eat, or recover before needing to rebuff another wave of attackers. They had, for the moment, managed to keep the beasts back behind the walls after Ser Aymeric's reinforcements had come, and protection of the ballista had been given the utmost of import. Faiolan remained upon the walls, keeping watch for any coming attackers, with Esme at his side anxiously clutching her lance, seething for the bloody of their adversary. The more dragons she fought, the more of them she slew, the angrier she appeared to become. There was no amount of them that could sate her lust for their demise. The sun was finally beginning to edge over the peaks of the mountains, splashing the Front in delicate pinks, fluorescent yellows, and radiant oranges. But the beauty of the sunrise was not to be beheld for long, as it brought with it the shadow of Dravanian wings upon the sky once more.

The tolls of a bell rang throughout the Front, waking those who could find sleep, rousing the garrison of exhausted soldiers to the posts considered least essential, and bringing a frantic energy about the entire place. The toll filled their ears and their hearts, as well as the air around them. They hearkened to it, to the faces of their comrades who kept the watch while they rested, reaffirming their comradery and lending them the strength to fight on. After a thousand years of war, the men and women of Ishgard found cause to keep on fighting in the faces of every one of their countrymen, restoring them to fighting shape even when their bodies and minds were worn down from the constant struggle. "TO ARMS SONS AND DAUGHTER OF ISHGARD! BRING YOUR BLADES TO BEAR, FOR OUR ENEMIES APPROACH!" Ser Aymeric called to the forces of the Front, showing his face on the frontline and further reinforcing their hope.

Esme smirked, her eyes hidden beneath the visor of her helm. Faiolan was unnerved by her confidence and her want for the battle ahead, but knew that it was this fighting spirit that had kept him intact the last two days. Her lance had always found its target and struck true. "Finally. I was afraid they have given up the cause. So long as Isgebind still takes the sky... oh, how I would relish bringing down that bastard for all the pain he has wrought." "So long as you don't do anything too foolish, of course," Faiolan cautioned his companion. "That is why I have you here... to ensure I don't do anything too foolish, while I make sure you don't end up a dragon's lunch." "Remind them of that when you meet them in battle, would you? Because they still seem so intent on devouring me whole." "Oh, I'll remind them... with the tip of my lance buried within their gullet."

The shrieking hordes of scales and wings grew bolder in the sky, while upon the snows marched a number of earthbound Dravanian forces as well. Several eyes upon the battlements spotted an even more disconcerting sight among those that marched towards the Front, that being men clad in armor and wielding weapons, yet walking among the enemy. Heretics had taken the field as well, joining with Isgebind's forces to claw the Front from Ishgard's grasp. So rarely had the heretics been so bold as to march alongside the dragons as such... but perhaps this was a sign of Isgebind's cunning as well as the vile beliefs of the heretics.

"ARCHERS!" Boomed out the Lord Commander's orders, causing several dozen bowstrings to tighten as arrows were knocked and strings were drawn back. "FIRE!" A chorus of twangs sending a volley of arrows, half into the air and accompanied by ballista fire, while the rest arced towards the ground forces. Several of them became pincushions, with a handful of dragons plummeting from the air and crashing into the ground and the encroaching forces. Esme must have been possessed of great self-control to not leap into the air above and begin the slaughter burgeoning in her heart, but her chance came soon enough as a sizeable, serpentine dragon descended upon the wall only to meet her spear and their end.

The Dravanian forces crashed upon the walls like a tidal wave, and the din of battle exploded into life. One of the hulking beasts below charged headfirst into the wall, causing the structure of it to tremble and crack. Clearly they sought to bring destruction upon the fortifications and claim the courtyard of the Front, and with it control of the battle itself. Ishgardian forces rallied to defend the walls, archers fired down from the top of the battlements, and the magically inclined among them reinforced the walls with barriers. Esme began a violent dance of carnage, while Faiolan defended the ballista operators with blade and shield. He could see Reynard across the way doing the same, and the pair of them locked eyes for a singular moment.

Fire engulfed a section of the wall, Esme leaping up and skewering the drake responsible. Jumping away from her victim, she struck another, almost taking on the aspects of a dragon herself as she worked her way through the air, causing draconic blood to rain down upon the fighters. Conjurers doused the flames with their magicks and tended to what wounds they could at a moment's notice, but the pressure was beginning to grow as the dragons grew bolder. A cry broke out from above as Esme was caught in the claws of a drake, but tore herself free with desperate maneuvers, tumbling down through the air and pulling of a less-than-graceful landing on the wall. The ballista which Reynard defended was being overwhelmed, and the wall beneath Faiolan's position was beginning to crumble.

"Go to him. I'll keep things here under control." It was not a request, as Esme jumped down from the wall and met the bulky beasts below with fervor. Faiolan charged down the wall, reaching the center of the battlements in a mad dash to reach Reynard's position. From behind, he heard a sudden shifting of favors, and yet another scream erupted from Esme's lips as the wall was finally breached and she stood as the vanguard between the Dravanians and the Front. Faiolan hesitated a moment, looking between her and Reynard, two who were both quite dear to me in their own way, and realizing that both of them were struggling against incredible odds... but not knowing which needed his blade more. This hesitation, unfortunately, would be incredibly costly.

The wall cracked, another section of it collapsing behind him. Esme barred the way with her lance, spinning and twirling like a storm of steel and hate. Reynard himself was manning the ballista, his men around him barely holding off Dravanian claws and the ballista operators lying dead in pools of their own innards and blood. Hope was wavering, and Faiolan was caught between them both.

[heckpuppyy]

Autumn Comes In

A collection of 30 drabbles focused around Zagreus and the Good Shade.

Set in the Universe of The Good Shade AU (The Reader assumes the role of the GS)

Childhood Home

Zagreus talks to Shade about their life before death.

TW// Mentions of War, Injuries, Blood, and Extreme Violence. Character Death. PTSD.

Zagreus, though ever the victim of a constantly shifting expanse that is the underworld, was finding it easier and easier to end up at certain parts of the trek up to the surface. He was able to count doorways, recognize land marks and statues, and even listen to certain sounds beyond the threshold to give him a better idea at what the Fates had in store. Through trial and error, learning a few hard lessons, and paying off a few border crossing nymphs and familiars, he started making it a regular habit to visit his Shade in their corner of Elysium you seemed to mostly have to yourself.

Your home was close to a fountain, so he would always listen for water. Your home also was heavy with Muscats that made the best wine for the soldiers who found themselves in eternal combat and glory. Loamy soil and a heavier air from the humidity... that was easy enough! A turn left here, a right there, and some pesky flame wheels that keep insisting on guarding this particular path... ah!

There you were in the filtered, artificial light of Elysium. You were picking a few of the grape bunches when you feel the familiar pattern of Zagreus’s hurried walk coming your way. You look up, greeting the Prince with a smile as you wave to him. He laughs and pulls you into a quick, familiar hug before pulling back from you. You gesture to the grapes in your basket as an offering, but he just shakes his head.

“No, thank you, Shade!” he says, that bright smile not once fading as he looks over you. You’re sure it’s just him being concerned for your well being, even knowing you’ll end up right back here if something were to happen to you. Still, something about the gaze he was giving you made you feel a little weak. You shook yourself out of it and nodded towards the fountain you two have made your comfortable little meet up spot. Zagreus nods and follows behind you, settling himself on the ground with you on the edge of the stone.

The two of you talk for a while about the typical things. Have you made it out again? How’s your mother? Is She away or home? How’s Cerberus? Anything weird or interesting? The comfortable routine you two had settled into felt warm and familiar. Something to look forward to even if the trek out here can be rather... cumbersome.

“Shade...” Zagreus starts, catching you a bit off guard and pulling you out of your lull. “What was your life like? Before you came here? To be granted eternity in Elysium without plea it must have been a pretty impressive timeline!”

Your life before Elysium... Now that was something to think about. You had been enjoying the peace and quiet of your little corner for so long you had almost forgotten... Your smile fades as you furrow your brow, turning your attention to the water in the fountain. How do you begin to even tell of the story of a physician?

Zagreus frown at your change in demeanor and reaches out to you. “Shade, I-- You don’t have to if it’s not something you want to talk about. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

You take a deep breath in and hold it for a moment, slowly exhaling to ground yourself. ‘It’s alright. I can... talk about it.’ you sign.

‘I was a Physician. I followed soldiers into battle and treated their wounds as best as I could in the back. I was never safe, and I saw... a lot. Men who had lost limbs, who had no blood left to let, who had weapons stuck so far in them they only had time to bid goodbye to their companions before they died from the removal.’

Zagreus watched carefully as you spoke, brow knitting tighter and tighter as you continued. You began to tremble as you tried to talk about the next part, but a hand reaches up and covers your own. You look down to Zagreus, who admittedly looks a little guilty for bringing it up in the first place, and you give him a weak smile. The gesture helps and you relax a little.

‘I wasn’t able to cover myself and the soldier who I was trying to treat. He had fallen to a spear, and as I was trying to prepare to clean the wound... I... was struck down. It happened so fast I was still trying to help the soldier when I saw Lord Ares ushering us along into the Styx. I was pulled into your Lord Father’s home and when I told him I was a physician struck down in the field, he sent me to Elysium without question. Now I’m here!’

Zagreus was quiet for a while longer after you finished. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. Just let you be so you could come down from the retelling... which you honestly didn’t know you needed until it happened. He finally spoke and moved to sit beside you on the fountain.

“That’s... an incredible story. You did so much good for so many soldiers who needed it... to have your life taken so quickly must have been horrible. I’m sorry I asked you to relive it... but I am very grateful you told me. Thank you, Shade. For your story and your service.” he said, meeting your gaze with a serious look. You gave him what little of a smile you had and nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as affirmation.

Though it seemed all too soon, you both knew it was getting a bit late. Zagreus stayed by your side a bit longer to make sure you were grounded before he stood to leave.

“You’re sure you’re alright now? I don’t want to go until I know for sure you’re feeling alright...” He asked, furrowing his brow once more as he fussed over you. You nodded and stood with him, holding your hands out as if to prove your lack of trembling was a good enough note to send him off on. He shook his head, but he wasn’t going to fight you on it.

“Well, if you’re absolutely sure. I’ll see you at the Coliseum, alright? Unless you’re not feeling up to it! Take care of yourself, alright?”

You placed your hands on your hips and shook your head. ‘I would never miss your fight. I’ll see you there!’ you sign.

Zagreus nods and gives you a quick hug as a send off before he heads down the path to his next door. You sigh and plop down onto the edge of the fountain and place your head in your hands. It was just as rough to remember as it was to experience... but something felt a little better knowing that someone who cared for you shared just a bit of that burden as well. Thankfully, nightmares don’t plague you here and the comfort of the purified healing waters help ease the phantom aches.

You pick up your basket of Muscats from the ground and head back towards your humble home. Tonight (today?), a goblet of wine and a show to support your most trusted friend. Tomorrow is a new day... Tomorrow will be better. Everything seems to be a little easier in Paradise after all.

Whew! I am very excited to get this challenge underway! I was so stoked to kind of maybe expand on why our Good Shade was in Elysium in the first place? It got a little dark for Childhood Home, but my brain was mostly equating "home" ro just being alive in general. So!

I'm sorry if it got a little off track for anything!

These will also be cross posted to my ao3 under Autumn Comes In!

See you guys in the next one! The prompt is Garden!! <3

[ziggyzagreus]

The Craftsman’s Son

[Note: Sorry for the slow update schedule on this baby, school is super tough!!]

[AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28960650/chapters/71960325]

[Summary: For the first time, Icarus attempts to stop Zagreus.]

~~~

Chapter 3. 

“My Prince, forgive my brash council but I must ask you to turn back.”

Icarus spoke sternly, a newfound strength to the ordinarily wispy nature of his voice. The hammer of Daedalus remained securely on his belt, unmoved and stowed away before Zagreus had taken a mere step into the room. The Prince was battered, bruised, bloody, and Varatha was dulled from what it had been through already. Once again, he arrived in the last chamber before the Lernaean Hydra, but it had been his worst attempt in a long while. Some time had passed since Zagreus last equipped the Eternal Spear, but it had been requested. And he had given his word, after all.

Despite all that, this obstacle was unexpected. Exhausted, Zagreus coughed and doubled over, catching his haggard breath before straightening to face the command. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Icarus, mate.”

“You will not make it past the next chamber anyways. Turning back could spare you a painful death.” Icarus’ posture shifted with the conviction of his words, wood and wax and leather creaking as a testament to his ethos. Zagreus’ eyes lingered on the sear of the clasps into his skin and felt sorry.

But this… this had to be some sort of test, right? There was no way that he was going to turn back, let alone at the word of someone as soft-spoken as Icarus. Yes, the shade surely had experience with being too confident; but surely in turn, he understood why Zagreus was so desperate to escape, why he needed to escape. And atop that, Zagreus had nothing but time to lose – no death, painful as it may be, was permanent to the Prince. So, surely this had to be a test. Or a joke.

Zagreus leaned on Varatha and straightened even more, taking a breath to appear stronger than he felt. “Death is of no consequence to me, I thought we’d been over that by now. I’m lucky enough to have more than one shot.”

“But there is a cost, though.” Icarus stepped closer still, the longer wing tip that remained dragging on the ground with a gritty scrape. “You’re tired. You do not know when your will to press on will break. I would not risk the discouragement.”

“Well, I’m not you.” Frustration and impatience took hold, mixed with the pulsing aggression of Ares underneath his skin. Zagreus did not mean to snap, and blinked in vague shock at the way his tone echoed around the chamber. But, at the same time… The way Icarus’ expression twitched in that same surprise struck inspiration deep in his core. Something beat.

Zagreus was going on ahead. He would slay the Hydra and forge his path through Elysium. He would conquer the Champions, move on to navigate the Satyr Tunnels, and at last – at last, he would defeat even his father. He would reach his mother.

And the last person that could possibly stop him was this quiet, timid, lurking shade – this shade whose own mistakes led to his own demise. No, Zagreus had planned his escape. He knew very well the bounds of his ability, his body and most certainly his determination; there was no question to the means he was willing to employ for merely the chance of getting out. This would not deter him in the slightest.

Icarus, jaded though his expression was, still stood at the center of the chamber. He had different ideas, an attempt to remain strong despite the shock of the Prince’s attitude. “My father warned me against complacency and hubris. But they are one in the same. Fly too low, and you get the ocean. Fly too high and you get the sun. But I- ” He cut off there, voice quivering, and swallowed before continuing, one scarred hand pointing at the Prince’s bloodied chest. “I flew too high, got the sun and then fell down to the sea. Arrogance will be your downfall, good Prince, all I’m asking is that you rest and try again.”

“Well, it’s not arrogance if I have a real reason to keep going. I’m not just flying at the sun to show off.”

Zagreus regretted it the moment the words passed his lips. Icarus recoiled, the snapping of wood and feathers following his sharp retreat a few steps from the Prince. For a moment, Zagreus feared he would stumble, but hesitated to reach out at the flare of upset anger that shown in the young man’s eyes. Icarus’ mouth hung open, a protest ready behind a gasp of needless air. Zagreus opened his mouth the same with an apology prepared.

Then Icarus gathered himself and looked down, gritting his teeth against anything and everything he wished to say. Excuses and explanations, opposition and arguments swam in those dark eyes, glistening with frustrated tears that rose to the surface. He was trying, for himself and for Zagreus… Trying fruitlessly to redeem something, find a peace from that lasting shame. From his humiliating, tragic end.

It was something neither right nor fair to bring up as an insult. It was hardly a topic to be discussed at all. Zagreus’ heart twisted in guilt.

“Icarus, mate, I’m-”

“Just – let me fix that up.” He held his winged, damned arm out for Varatha, eyes still downcast. The other hand freed the craftsman’s hammer from its place on his belt. “Magnificent spear, shame you let it get beat up like that.”

Zagreus hesitated at the sudden change of topic. He wanted to apologize, to discuss what just occurred between them and make it right. But one look at Icarus deemed the conversation over.

Reluctantly, Zagreus handed over his weapon, feeling suddenly small and tired without it by his side. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders, and he so very much wished then for something to lean on. His feet continued to sizzle against the scuffed rock despite any draw by the throes of exhaustion. Instead, the Prince listened to the soothing, sure sounds of the hammer clanging by the blessed metal of Varatha, strengthening it to cater the journey ahead.

Moments passed, what could have been seconds or hours, before Icarus was handing the spear back assuredly. His eyes met Zagreus’, though the expression there was guarded and unreadable.

“Good luck,” the shade spoke in a whisper.

“I’m… sorry, Icarus. That was inconsiderate, terrible, of me. I cannot thank you enough for all your help…”

“Do not apologize for speaking the truth. Just – do not prove me right. Do not give me that guilt. Get out of here, Prince.”

Zagreus sucked in a breath to argue again, but that blank look drained it right from him like a puncture. The Prince nodded with a hiss of his burning laurels and took the spear, hefting its now light weight. He moved past the shade silently, before calling over his shoulder, “I’m sorry. Please, take care, Icarus.”

And oh, Icarus wished he could. He watched the Prince board the raft to carry him to the following chamber, and Icarus wished he could do as Zagreus said. Ease his worry, make him proud, even. Zagreus, his father… anyone for whom Icarus had come to care for. The young shade felt deeply as if he did not know the consequences of his own actions, nor those that someone like Zagreus’ could bring. Misguided by tales of grandeur, promises from fellow shades down here and false testaments to the gods’ imperviousness, Icarus pondered his perception of the good Prince.

It was hard to look at him. To see his success, his strength, his kindness, and not be inspired. How could one gaze upon that Prince and not imagine that all is possible? But that awe was what made Icarus worry. It was a charisma and persona potentially far too grandiose to maintain.

The young shade longed for Eurydice, for her motherly company and kind words. He felt a tremble begin in his fingertips. He looked around his chamber, Asphodel bubbling hot and bright and fierce.

Like that orb in the sky, like the sun – so bright and tempting and challenging. But this place, Asphodel was contained by those dark walls. Dark and choking and claustrophobic like the crashing, drowning, sucking waves of a dark sea. Icarus shook more, feathers rustling and wood creaking as he crouched to his knees. Those tears that bordered his eyes from the harsh words of the soft-spoken Prince finally spilled over, and Icarus felt so small. Small, timid, ashamed, ashamed, ashamed.

Who was he, to stop the Prince? Who was he, to offer advice on what he thought in hindsight to be right, when even that lesson learned had not been enough to reunite him with his father? What right did Icarus have to make any statement that counted? He wept on the floor, afraid and ashamed, and wished Zagreus would return and be safe. Icarus longed to find Eurydice and her little home, to feel safe. He longed, ached for his father to come reclaim his hammer, so that Icarus may take a groveling moment to weep his sorries and feel safe.

[the-siren-and-the-sailor]

A story written by me and my little brother!

THIS TOOK MONTHS! INTERACTIONS, ESPECIALLY REBLOGS, ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

“Now, hold it at an angle… there, that is perfect. You are a natural, Mal gein,” the woman helped her son adjust his hands, so that his dagger was properly positioned on the sharpening stone. She had a sword in her own hand, and used it to further demonstrate the way it was done.

He slowly turned the tiny blade from side to side, his eyes fully trained on it in childish wonder. Sparks flew off the wheel haphazardly and Spear giggled at the flashy sight. His mother, however, looked after him worriedly. She was not surprised when his finger slipped and nicked the blade, quickly snatching a bandage as he began to cry.

She gently shushed him, taking his hand and wrapping it in the cloth. He started apologizing through tears, but she once again quieted him.

“It’s alright, mal kendov, there is no shame in pain. That is why the gods gave us loved ones. To unify us and to lift one another up. Never forget this.”

~*~

Iýa looked the sleeping Daphne over from atop her starry perch with pity. “Struck by lightning at sea, I’m afraid. You were right to bring her here, Leonora. Let me see what I can do…” With this, she held Daphne and ran a glowing hand over her scales. The blistering burn slowly began to melt away, and Daphne’s eyes fluttered open.

Upon recognizing her surroundings, she squirmed in her mother’s arms and began to cry. She didn’t know why she was crying, exactly. Perhaps it was the way her sister had told on her mistake, or the way her mother looked at her regardless.

Either way, Iýa held her through every moment of it, crooning a lullaby in her ear and assuring her she was safe and loved. And whether Daphne believed it or not, it was the truth.

~*~

Trouble had begun to brew in the east, and the envy of the first man blew the growing storm westward. He stole a star from the Fair Folk’s skies, a great blasphemy against them and their Goddess of the sparkling Night.

While Asem was powerful to an egregious degree, the Fae still felt it necessary to push back against the man’s arrogance. This led them to go to their Goddess and make a wish.

But while the crown of Asem began to fracture his family and kingdom, the Fae’s wish had already been set in motion. Stories began to fly of monsters in the woods beyond the Faerie trading ports. Sailors would return, describing massive men as tall as trees, covered with midnight fur.

Those that knew waited with baited breath. Asem’s sin had brought him to justice all on its own, and yet the beasts made to destroy him already existed. The Fae only hoped to now hide these frightful children they had created…

~*~

Daphne sneakily slipped behind a pillar of sandstone, warily watching her back. Out of the corner of her eye, a pale pink fin darted out of view. Caught.

She would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the pressing need to not be detected. But did that poor pallid mergirl think she was being secretive in her attempts to win the match? The princess certainly hoped not, for the girl’s sake. In any case, she tapped her hand against the wall, and an icy open clip appeared around it.

With this, she allowed herself to let slip a quiet giggle and darted away behind another pillar. She coiled herself around it and promptly turned herself into pure water, so that she was effectively invisible.

Just as she had hoped, the pinky girl swam around the pillar, and was disappointed to find the princess wasn’t there. Daphne flicked her wrist, causing the clasp to snap around the girl’s tail, trapping her and making her yelp.

Revealing herself, Daphne resumed her tail, cackled like a witch, a shot ahead to claim the final prize. She snatched the flag, waving it excitedly to show off to her fellow competitors. They swam out from their hiding places, arms crossed and brows furrowed, and threw joking insults her way.

“How do you keep doing it, you wench, you?” One of them, Marina, snipped lightheartedly.

“I guess I’m just better than the lot of you,” Daphne quipped smugly.

With this, they giggled, laughed and talked, as they made their way back to their dwelling place in a cave nearby. When there, Marina and the pink tailed girl pulled Daphne into a private room to talk.

“What’s this about, ladies?” she said with slight apprehension.

“Well, we’ve been thinking. And, we figure you have the most experience with the outside world…”

“We didn’t want to send someone with anything less. And since these ‘Children of the Night’ are so out of control, even now, we thought you ought to-”

“Please, Daphne. You have friends, don’t you? The scholar you lived with in the human’s city, or what about that half-blood you got along with so well?’

Daphne held up a hand. “No, no. Cain and his family are more their targets than anyone else. And goodness knows where Ion is- frankly I don’t think they’d be able to help, anyway. And Leonora, well…”

A tense pause. They were isolated and their friends were scattered, and they knew it. What could they do? They needed the other civilizations to keep theirs afloat; they couldn’t just barricade themselves in.

“I have one last idea. Voyagers of all peoples have been the lead storytellers and information providers through this. People are bound to go to the Fae to find out what’s going on. If I wait there, I can intercept someone, get them on our side.”

And so the plan was set. Daphne gathered her things, set Marina in charge of the people, and set off for the forest shores.

~*~

After two decades of dedicating his life to a Spectrum Kendov (or Warrior), Spear had reached the point of the highest physical strength and endurance as well as elemental power of the Northern Dragon standards. A Spectrum Kendov was the highest honor a Dovah could accomplish, by defeating two God-like beings… Perun, lord of earth and all Hell fire, and Scorpio, whose stars reigned with war and bloodshed of all the other Zodiac beings.

Spear walked into the Champions Arena, the crowd roared with anticipation and excitement, for the supposed Spectrum Kendov, meant to protect them from all great evil had finally come to claim his title. His helm, shaped to match his demon horns, had already been placed upon his head, and his eyes, glistening with power and will, looked at his opponents, with no urge to kill, but to have mercy when they were beaten to the ground.

"Well, isn't this a sight to see!" Perun's deep booming voice shouted, "Another one ready to die just to claim a glorified and honorful title he just can't have!" Perun had always been the one to provoke those who had high egos, yet Spear remained unmoved with his words.

"Ain't that the truth, this little man is nothing but a few twigs tied with some leaves," A lighter, cockier voice came from Scorpio, whom was the one to provoke others who share his personality, "Sure he has a bit of a size… but he ain't average height, that's for sure!" Perun and Scorpio boomed with laughter.

"Gaah! What the fu-?" Scorpio never finished his exclamation before he was thrown into the arena wall after being punctured with a double axe bladed spear, Spear's personal weapon. The fight had begun, and Scorpio had already yielded to Spear, he was in so much shock he forgot how to fight, while Perun sprung into action with his flaming axe bladed chain, grinding the ground around Spear. As Perun made a final smash to where Spear was, a thunderbolt the size of five struck upon him, leaving Spear's weapon in his back.

Spear retrieved his weapon from Perun's back, and showed mercy on him and Scorpio, for they were only trying to find the true Spectrum Kendov. The tribe went wild and shouted, "Spear is our Guardian! All praise whoever's watching us that we have our Guardian!"

Perun spoke to Spear after he was helped up by him, "We stood no chance- your small appearance is really deceiving to your skill in battle and power. Scorpio and I made an agreement that we would be the Spectrum's protectors, because while you may be strong, you are not immortal."

Spear spoke in a gentle yet stern voice, "Indeed, and I would rather have someone by my side fighting with me, than having more power and relying on that to fight."

Perun and Scorpio took Spear to the North Tower, the one place where all you see is South. "The Wind of the Northern Winter lies here, if it finds you worthy of its own power, then you are the Spectrum Kendov, and you know what responsibility comes with that title…" Perun spoke grimly and sorrowfully as he finished his speech.

Spear responded, "I know all too well of the prophecy, but I'd rather know than not if… he… is to come in my lifetime…" The Wind of the Northern Winter flowed through his veins as he entered the tower, no cold came upon him, yet he felt he could never feel too hot. He had been chosen to be the Spectrum Kendov, the Decimator of Alduin as legend goes- but that time had not come, for another challenge for Spear and the Northern Dragons arose down South…

~*~

Nightmares plagued the residents of the trees, no doubt the Interlopers used these horrid dreams to communicate. Below the leaves, the devils hung Fae bodies in shackles, pulling and picking at them until they bled. Those above pleaded to their gods that they and their children would not be next.

The Interlopers held a ravenous, morbid curiosity. It drove them out of the forests, beyond the lands of the Fae. They tormented the remnants of the first city, the servants of the iron god and the blood necromancers of the east. Their cruel hands found their ways into the lives of the Imitites, the Ortothans, and the Dovahs who had ventured South from their home.

Even the sirens below the freezing southern waves and ice were not immune to this. They poked their heads up to find massive beasts afoot in the snow. The ice cracked under their weight, leaving them vulnerable under the sickly yellow eyes of their attackers. They sent ships to the flesh shepherds and wonder makers on land, and even some to their Fae ancestors still in the woods, but none returned.

They looked to their princess, the demigod of the moon, sea, storms, and dreams, to provide them with weapons and armour, food and shelter. She didn’t know what to do- how could she possibly slip past these monsters? They were everywhere! Not trusting the gods of the Fae she was created by, she turned to another. Going to the sea serpent of lost memories, she prayed.

The Northern Dragons reacted differently however. In their attempts to sail across lands and create new colonies, they had run into what seemed to be giant creatures of great physical strength. Those that were exploring had either been missing for a great time, or had come back with their boats and sails barely holding together, while one man handling the boat itself.

The Dovahs had decided that Spear, the Spectrum Kendov, should be the one to seek out what they heard were called Interlopers, and hunt every single one of them down. While they planned his exploration, they had caught wind of creatures called the Fae, who were being hunted by these Interlopers. With all of this information, they had compiled a plan to not only bring the Fae as an ally, but to begin not a war, but a hunt against the Interlopers. So Spear untied his sail, pushed against the boat onto the water, and sailed to what the Dovahs called the Midlands, the land between Northern and Southern lands.

~*~

Sailing across waters long, Spear found himself beached at the Midlands; scanning his surroundings he finds that a forest grows thick ahead. Grabbing his weapon off of his back, he is ready for any battle to come, as he senses danger within the dense woods. He jumps off the boat's prow and lands with grace, while only sand from where he stood moved. He sneakily and quickly veered into the woods, and found that it was vast and compacted with large, kapok trees. Spear took note as he is only used to his native Blackwood trees.

A sound appeared suddenly, Spear silently leapt to the back of the closest tree, and peered upon what looked to be what he was hunting. An interloper, magnificent in size and mass, making an absurd amount of noise through each footstep, looking like a bear on two legs, as it was covered in fur. Spear slowly and expertly aimed his weapons towards the Interlopers head, and threw. After a clash of weight caving down onto a tree, the body of the interloper crumbled into a pile of jade rocks, it was dead. Spear walked over to his weapon, sensing no other large beings around, and picked up his weapon.

Suddenly, a sharp pain dug itself into his shoulder, and he turned to be met with the end of an arrow, made of, was it ice? "Gaah! Shite! What the heck!?" Spear jumped behind a tree with an arrow in his right shoulder. "Alright, who has the bloody galls to face me in combat? I warn you, I am a Dovah!" Spear left the arrow in his arm so as to not cause more bleeding, and switched to his left hand to weild.

"Come on out Interloper! I may have mercy on you if you do!" A feminine voice shouted from beyond Spear’s field of vision.

"The hell do you mean Interloper? Is that pile of rocks not what a dead one looks like?!" Spear shouts, aggravated that he was accused of being something he wasn't.

"Wait...who are you, if not one of them?" The woman’s voice spoke once more, and Spear sensed confusion and fear in her voice. She must’ve shot him thinking she was being hunted by him.

"I'm coming out slowly, I would appreciate it if you would not shoot me again!" Spear tentatively stepped around the tree to see the figure's ice-sculpted weapon out, but not ready to fire. "I am Spear, Guardian of the Northern Dragons….who the Hell are you?"

"Princess Daphne le’Iýa, Faerie demigod of the ocean," Daphne realizes the wounds and puts away her bow while stepping towards Spear. Spear was obviously hesitant and held out his weapons towards her. "Look, I thought you were one of the monsters, and had I known you were not, I certainly wouldn't have shot you. I can fix that wound better than you can. Please, it's the least I could do."

Spear recognized her honesty, while still noticing fear in her voice. He let her come close enough to slit his throat, but she pulled the arrow out of his arm, and immediately started singing in a language the Spear only knows through ancient Faerie scrolls, and his arm healed, leaving only a scar to remember.

"You are skilled in your magic, I'm glad to have met you, even if I met your arrow first,” Spear spoke honestly and jokingly, as he knew that forgiving this supposed Daphne would be the best way to start a bond.

"I am truly sorry about that. Is there anything else I can do?" Daphne didn’t seem to want anyone else after her, and tried her best to apologize to Spear.

"Do not worry, you only shot in defense without fully knowing who you were shooting at, I can understand this," Spear patted her shoulder to assure her. "Maybe we can both benefit from this event of meeting each other… you could find safety and rest back in my homeland, and then you can share what you know about these Interlopers, this way we both are happy with what we get."

"Have you forgotten about my actions so soon? I shot you!" Daphne was dumbfounded by Spear's quick dismissal of what had happened to him. Although he shook his head at her.

"You need not worry of your actions, for they were acted upon through fear and reaction, you were only trying to keep yourself safe. I can help you with that." Daphne tried to oppose and tell him that he should not be so dismissive about the event, but Spear assured her through a side hug, which caught Daphne off guard enough for Spear to walk past her and towards his boat.

“Wait,” Daphne called. Spear turned back to look back. “The last time I crossed the ocean with someone, things ended up, well… not so good.”

“You’ll be quite safe with my people,” Spear said. Daphne shifted a bit, eying him with wary hope. He was exactly what she set out looking for, after all. “And besides. If you find yourself uncomfortable, you can always use your arrows again,” he said with a playful wink.

With this, Daphne giggled slightly and followed behind. Exiting the thick forest, the two climbed onto the boat. Spear set sail to Scandinavia, the land of the Northern Dragons. To which the two made the journey, to the next step in either great failure, or triumphant victory…

~*~

The pair tentatively made their way across the ocean, skirting past the Interlopers ships to find themselves on the icy northern shores. The princess scurried to and fro, fascinated by her new environment and its people. How different they were than the people of the places she had previously resided in…!

They were Children of the Sun, but unlike those in the First City, these people were pale, blonde, and above all, kind. They welcomed the man- Spear- back with open arms, and were more than curious to meet the woman he had brought along with him. They peppered her with questions and gifts and sights to see, until eventually she was taken to a large building made from an upside-down wooden ship, which they called the Companion’s Lodge, a place to plan a hunt of glory and honor.

Suffice to say, she should’ve known that the man she crossed the ocean with would be the leader. She also met his guards, the most different of men but an excellent team nonetheless. Here, the four pulled out books, maps, stories and paintings, pouring over them in hopes that a hint would be found. A sign that the plans they would go on to make were possible.

After much studying and deliberation, they had had enough. What better way to understand these monsters than through personal experience? Better to dive right into cold waters than to waste your time slowly wading. It was a siege they wanted, and it was a siege they would have.

~*~

The battle was ferocious, haunting... yet it yielded knowledge to Spear and Daphne. As Spear took two dozen Dovahs with him, all with different elemental abilities, Daphne trained in her skills with water. During this time she was informed of something from Spear she never expected.

"It is tradition when one makes an ally of another, they would train each other of the other's weapon, so that the bond goes beyond words of trust, it is also trust of possessions." Spear spoke to Daphne in hopes to have created at least a friend with her. "I believe we are trusting of each other, so… what do you say?"

"Uhm…" Daphne was caught a bit off guard. Her bow being one of few things she kept to remind her of the home she came from. "I'm not sure… I mean, I trust you completely… but I don't want to give my bow to anyone really…" She obviously didn't want to hurt him in any way, so she tried her best to tell him in the kindest way.

"Well, maybe we can teach each other of how to use one another's weapons, that way if we do switch weapons, it won't be devastating in battle," Spear was trusting towards Daphne, mainly because he felt a strong connection between them. Even so, Daphne felt guarded towards him, yet she agreed to training each other, as she remembered, ‘iron sharpens iron.’

While Spear was able to pick up her bow and use it with tremendous strength and agility, Daphne had immediate trouble with how to begin using Spear's complicated weapon. Until Spear suggested using it as a spear, not an axe, Daphne then swiftly grew more attuned to the weapon.

While this was happening, the Interlopers stronghold was being populated with readily growling beasts, yielding to tear apart anything that came. Just before the battle began, Daphne and Spear switched weapons, and having learned each other's weapons, they charged in the front line, and made mountains with the piling jade rocks from many fallen and crushed Interlopers.

With their great roar of excitement, the Dovahs roared with them, right into the line of Interlopers. As they crashed through their thick bodies with their hugs weapons, they became berserk and started wailing on them, showing no mercy. They had trained to fight like Hell itself, and they were as demons in this battle, blood soared not spilled, limbs flew not fell, and the morale of the Dovahs only increased. However, even with their great first triumphant starting charge, they started to wear down in numbers, just by virtue of the continuous streaming numbers of Interlopers.

As Daphne was using her water abilities in ways she never imagined using on the frontline, Spear used archery and close combat expertly to the point where he never missed his shots and never came close to getting hit. Even though the two sibling-like fighters were doing well, the Dovahs were still overwhelmed by the increasing numbers.

Many had used fire, metal, nature, and all of them were decimated, while those using lightning were barely holding on as well as wind… however, Daphne noticed something. She peers in close distance to two Dovahs using water abilities, making the Interlopers drown, what was curious however, was that when they were under the water, they couldn't move, therefore they couldn't breath and they died.

Daphne quickly refocused to the battle at hand, and Spear cries out, "Too many have fallen, fall back! Water Dovahs, drown those who follow us!" It seemed as though Spear was also paying attention to his surroundings. As the remaining group of soldiers returned to their outpost, the last two water Dovahs made a wall of water of which the Interlopers could not pass lest they drown and crumble into jade.

Daphne and Spear look at each other in agreement. The battle may have been lost for that day… but knowledge of weakness in their enemies may prove to be the element to winning the war, or as the Northern Dragons call it, the hunt…

~*~

The Companion's Lodge was bathed in a tense argument. They started the siege with the advantage of surprise, but it had quickly descended into mindless violence and death.

“How could this have happened? I thought we had them!” Scorpio shouted in frustration.

“We made sure to bring our best! All different kinds of elemental wielders were there with us, and nearly all of them were slaughtered! What more could we possibly have done?” Perun huffed. Although calmer than the others, his voice still wavered with stress.

“At least we learned their weakness,” Spear started to speak before being cut off.

“Oh, fantastic. Just in time for your people to be killed,” Daphne said icily.

“Our people,” Spear tried an uncertain smile.

Daphne paused and sighed, relieving a tad bit of the tension. “Yes, our people.” She looked around the room, which had largely quieted down. “I’m so sorry. If I had known it would turn out this way…”

“But you couldn’t have. This isn’t any of our faults,” Perun said in a soothing, almost fatherly tone. A somber silence fell over them, each lost in thought, or perhaps simply in grief.

“Daphne could tell us more about why this is happening,” Scorpio spoke quietly.

“I already told you all I know about the Interlo…” she trailed off. That didn’t seem to be the point. “Alright.”

“Well, the Fae goddess- my mother, Iýa. She created me and my… sister, Leonora. But she was made princess and I wasn’t, so I ran away. I didn’t realize why I needed to stay until the Fae had Iýa create the Interlopers we now face.”

A, “But why?” from Perun.

A, “Shush!” from Spear.

Daphne giggled before turning serious again. “The first man- Asem- stole from my people. He took a star and used it for a crown. I was already gone when all this happened, but I’m told the Faeries wished for justice. In return, Iýa gave them the Interlopers. Not that it mattered. Asem’s greed had already torn his family apart. His wives left him, his sons quarreled until they drove each other apart, and his people all left or died in the chaos.”

“And how is it you know so much about him?” Scorpio spoke with a hint of accusation.

She drew in a breath to argue, but Perun spoke as before her, more calmly. “He’s right. Even we didn’t know this, and we live much closer to the first city than you did at the time.”

Daphne huffed and turned away. Spear put a hand on her shoulder, making her tense and then ease up.

“I was there.” Silence. Spear’s hand pulled away. “I know how that must sound. Most people would have you believe I immediately joined the sirens under the ice, but…” She took a deep breath. “There was this boy. I went with him to his city- the first city- and his family. They were nice, but not kind. And I was there to witness this be their downfall. Not that it matters now- and it’s probably for the best, anyway.”

Spear put his arm around Daphne’s shoulder to comfort her, and it worked. She steeled herself again to go on. “Now, as for the Interlopers- in the city was a sorcerer- his name was Noah. I know it sounds like a long shot, but I know him, and I know he could help. I think our next step is to find him.”

~*~

Daphne had hidden herself away under her covers, with a small, glowing gem of ice. Curled up and warm, she sang a lullaby and fiddled with the ginger scarf in her hands. Her sister’s. If only they could’ve just gotten along, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. If she had just sought to understand her mother’s wishes for her, or if she had met Asem just a little sooner to convince him not to do what he did...

You’ll never be able to hate yourself enough to rewrite history, that boy’s gentle voice whispered to her. Silently, she nodded. Her heart ached with longing. How she wished she could hold him again. She’d fall to her knees and beg if it meant she could giggle with her sister again, or squirm and cry in her mother’s arms. If this could all go back to normal. But, drawing in a shaky breath, she reminded herself not to dwell on what could have been. She had a new family now, one that truly loved her, and she had to protect them.

Spear meanwhile, took a knife from his shield, which had many, but this one was different. This first knife he had crafted with his mother, the one of few things that actually cut him. He held it in his hands in admiration, as if he had never seen it before. Spear then held the knife to his chest as if trying to hug it, and thought about his mother.

He began singing an old song told by many of the Dovahs, called, My Mother Told Me. He sang it perfectly in three different keys. He then replaced his knife back into his shield, and stood up. He was ready for battle, for exhaustion, even for death… because he was once a boy who cut himself with his own knife… and now is the Spectrum Kendov… he feared not the death of himself, but the death of his newfound sister, therefore he swore that he would protect her, even at the cost of his life...

~*~

"Water is their weakness!" Perun shouted, "Why the Hell can't we just use your powers in every battle and destroy these cursed Interlopers?!" Perun was insistent on being a warlord, making sure everyone had a chance of fighting and getting stronger. Though he didn't realize the bigger picture.

"Every time I used my powers for an extended amount of time, I got tired, that is why we can't continuously use these powers every battle, because it would weaken us to the point where we can't even fight!" Spear spoke angrily at Perun, though he knew Perun's powers worked differently because he was a mythological God, he hated his lack of empathy when others got tired from using them. "Even if we didn't get tired, why should we fight and lose more of our men, when we can wipe them out completely in one big swipe?!"

"What are you talking about…?" Perun's curiosity perked up as he heard this. Daphne opened up a scroll of prophecy, and with her knowledge explained to both Perun and Scorpio more about Noah, a human from the seas, able to control great waves from below ground.

With this knowledge they created a plan, Spear would use his powers that combined into weather to create a huge rainstorm, Daphne would use her powers to raise the waves of the oceans, lakes, and rivers, and finally Noah would use his power to break the ground and gush water from the Earth. Their powers combined should be enough to cover all but the highest parts of the Earth. They trusted that the Interlopers would fall in and sink, while others would either get to the high ground, use boats, or swim in the sea if they were sea creatures. The missing component was Noah himself.

"Where is this Noah?" Scorpio asked urgently, he wanted to rid the Northern Dragons of any threats as soon as possible. Daphne then pulled out a map of the Midlands and pointed out where he could be.

"Right in the middle of an Interloper camp?" Spear grunted this, as he did not want anything to go wrong in getting Noah. Daphne nods, her expression was a mix of anger and disappointment, she had the same feelings as Spear. Perun started to notice the bond between Spear and Daphne, and while the two were talking more, Perun pulled Scorpio aside.

"I remember that Noah was taken captive with the Daevite Methuselah, though I don't know what their intentions were," Daphne spoke to Spear, she was annoyed by the fact they had to fight more Interlopers to get one person.

"I have Dovahs around the area, mainly for scouting. They came back long before all of this and told me that there is a camp, and it's only guarded by about 40 beasts, which I would think are Interlopers. It will only be tedious, that's all," Spear spoke to Daphne, trying to lift her spirits at least a little. It worked, and Daphne thanked him for being the one to look at a mug half full. Spear meanwhile thanked Daphne for looking at every possible bad ending, things to avoid.

As Scorpio and Perun come back unnoticed, they begin to pack for the adventure ahead. They thought it would be a walk in the small forest, so they only brought Spear, Daphne, Perun, and Scorpio. A mistake they made to bring so little to a battle they thought would be easy. For there may be small numbers, but the camp is one of the oldest camps the Interlopers made, and since they do not age with time… trouble is amongst those who venture into these parts of the Midlands…

~*~

The travelers numbering four ventured forth into the seemingly haunted woods. As they were traveling Perun started sensing many things in the woods, small animals mostly. He looked everywhere at all times, making sure they were safe. It seemed the right thing to do considering they were going into unknown territory for everyone.

The trees themselves were massive birch trees, usually thought of as peaceful, harmless. However twisted magic had affected these trees over the decades, and created monster-like limbs and branches. Even with these weird formations, no twigs or branches had fallen to be broken, as if nobody had ever ventured into this area.

They managed to find the camp of the Interlopers, and snuck in. All of them were on high alert, especially Perun, as they crouched and sneakily ran in multiple directions.

Daphne left the group and followed the sweet scent of water, a stark contrast against the putrid stank of things rotting in the dark. The brook led her to a horrid sound, red lights serving as a waypoint. It was awful; the closer she got, the more she clung to the bed of the stream for comfort. But alas, her head emerged at the rumbling thud of Interloper footsteps. She immediately gagged.

There, in the middle of a crowd of singing devils, was Iýa, but it was not really her. This was a massive, sickly tree, the size of a large town. It was twisted and warped, with a thousand wriggling bodies strung up in it’s branches. The aberration was screaming and crying an demonic bellow, all the while the Interlopers hummed as though in joy.

What was this thing? This couldn’t be Iýa, it wasn’t possible! Iýa was a glowing mother, a sleeper in the stars, a granter of wishes. She cared for the downtrodden and oppressed, and all those who could not defend themselves. She couldn’t become this, this...

Meanwhile, Spear, Scorpio, and Perun had convened in the main camp. It seemed that only the prisoner's area was inhabited, there they found the supposed Noah. As they started to unchain him, he started grunting. They quickly shushed him and told him they were there to help, he calmed down enough to be unchained, however, they did not quiet him in time.

Suddenly, a loud sound of seemingly screeching giggling and groaning of war had been shouted, despite Perun's attempts to look everywhere, he managed to miss the entire garrison of the Interloper camp. Spear and Daphne, now returned, immediately stood back to back as if they could take on the whole world, while Perun and Scorpio started smashing their weapons onto the Interlopers. Scorpios scythe had pierced many during the battle, while Perun's axe on a chain whirled around and clashed the heads of many. Spear and Daphne, using each other's weapons as always, were always either defending each other or helping the other attack an Interloper, they were synchronized.

The fight continued on like this until Daphne was thrown to a tree, leaving Spear vulnerable to the last remaining Interloper. Spear looked about him as the Interloper charged his weapon at him….although no injury befell him, rather on Scorpio. Spear threw his weapon and the last Interloper was thrown into a tree and broke into jade. Spear slides to Scorpio's side in time for him to speak to Spear for a short time…..

After his dialogue, his body turns bright and, as if he were being sucked into the sky, his body lifted up swiftly, leaving only his necklace for Spear to bear… Scorpio was dead. Spear shouted out in rage and a thunderstorm started to appear, then it stopped. Daphne hugged Spear tightly, and while Spear was caught off guard by this, he embraced her, being thankful that he was still with her at least. Perun had then brought who was seemingly Noah out of hiding, from behind thick berry bushes, and into sight.

After their journey back, and the heartache of Scorpio's death, they explain the whole plan of how to destroy the Interlopers. Noah was quite panicked at first, but after calming down and hearing Perun, Spear, and Daphne, as well as considering they saved him, he agreed to being a part of the plan. So together, they trained, and got ready for The Great Flood of Cleansing Sin. Factions around the world had been sent a message entitling everyone to either get to high ground, build ships to sail on, or dive deep underwater so as to not be destroyed by the coming flood. Who knew what more sacrifices have to be made to create peace, was it even worth it all? The story continued, and the next step was the extinction of a race…

~*~

Spear, Daphne, Noah, and Perun travelled back to the forest of their greatest travesty, and had one last moment of remorse, sorrow, heartache. The rest of the Dovahs were building their ships to sail on the waters to come, and they decided to go to the location after the prophesied flood.

Daphne didn't know Scorpio for long, but she still enjoyed his comedic comments and his radiation of happiness, and she knew everything would be at least a good amount more depressing. Spear knew Scorpio for not much longer than Daphne, but like Daphne, he enjoyed Scorpio's company, as well as their many interesting conversations… including the one where he told Spear he was getting married.

Spear and Perun had to hug his fiancé for over an hour just to comfort her. Perun was Scorpio's brother, they were not blood related, but brothers nonetheless, therefore Perun, for the first time in his entire life, cried a tear from his eye. All Dovahs remorsed of his death, but only those who truly knew and had a relationship with Scorpio needed time, time to be sad. Then anger rose from the sadness, and all of them started preparing for the creation of the flood.

As Spear and Perun walked away, Daphne tailed behind them and slipped into the nearby creek. She did not have the will to enjoy the feeling of her tail returning; the situation at hand was much too grim. Her mother was now an abomination, her heart torn out for those created to be betrayed. And a man who had so quickly become a brother to her was dead. Daphne never had any brothers, why now that she did would one be taken away so carelessly?

Daphne heaved a sigh and began to sob. At first it seemed that the Interlopers were tools, created to do the Fae's dirty work and then be ignored forever. But they weren’t; they were children. Made for violence and cast aside like waste. And festering in the dark for so long, was it any surprise they didn’t know any better? Was it their fault?

She now knew what needed to be done, but hadn’t they already lost enough? A good friend and a mother gone were too much, how could she bring herself to wipe out an entire race, even despite their actions?

She once again thought of Asem’s family, of Cain, and felt an overwhelming pang of guilt. Oh, all the things she could’ve, should’ve, didn’t do to stop this! Clutching at the clockwork bracelet he had given to her, she did the only thing she could think to do; pray. Not to what was left of Iýa, not to any leviathans or sea serpents, but to a simple god with a simple purpose. She only hoped her words could be heard, that things could still be fixed. But the quiet sound of a thousand voices whispered to her, that she already knew what to do.

Touching a hand to the grass, she began to sing. It was her sister’s song, a flowery poem of spring, rebirth and justice. But this was not justice for her, Daphne thought as the flowers around her began to bloom in unison. This isn’t for the Faeries, their queen, or even Leo (though Daphne did hope she was safe). This was not for Asem or the Children of the Sun, or even the countless cultures that had been picked, pulled, and torn at by the devils.

No, the flood may be necessary to wipe out the horror of their acts, but the flowers now blooming across the face of the planet would serve as the Interlopers grave. And she would ensure this day would be remembered.

~*~

The flowers had wilted as the sun set the evening after their blooming. In the night that followed, light rain began to drizzle. This quickly turned to torrents and lightning that could rival that of even the god’s creation. Flash floods cascaded down mountains, turning creeks into rivers and rivers into great lakes. Forests became cold swaps and Interloper camps were reduced to sticks and blankets.

Those devils that were not fastened in place by the waters took the prisoners by their chains to the summits of peaks. Yet still most of the monsters slipped and fell, leaving the humans, Faeries, and Daevas still in their chains to find higher grounds, both together and on their own.

All the while, Daphne and Spear were deep, deep, down, their magic sustaining and growing on itself on their life forces. Low in the halls of Daphne’s first home, in the strip of land connecting the massive continents, they dreamt.

Hers started out pleasant. She was in a field, picking flowers as fast as her sister’s magic grew them. They took turns braiding the blossoms into each other’s hair, until the ground began to shake and the earth was overturned. They were then older, ceaselessly arguing as their mother futilely tried to calm them. Both sisters stormed off, swearing to never speak again.

The doors slammed shut, and there she sat beside the scholar, quietly watching him write. She reached behind him for a pen to mimic his strange symbols with. But as soon as her eyes turned, she was face to face with the starry iron crown of Asem. Across her eyes played scenes of the brutality and deadly force of the Interlopers- their prisoners crying, her mother’s corpse screaming- and the storms and floods created to wash them away.

And then she saw things she didn’t recognize. Simple flashes, almost ideas. Some were light. Her friends, older and stronger. A wedding, two boys that looked half like her. Spear, in command of legions, and Leonora, princess of the Fae. But some were dark. A corrupt king and his four knights, sent to destroy, going back to their kingdom in cursed shambles. The cadaver of her sister, willingly having given her life to end the terrorous reign of the Fae’s ruiners, and the great profanities she created.

And then her mind went blank. Only the rains remained.

While this happened, Spear and Perun quickly started getting ready while Noah and Daphne had already started using their powers. Perun was there to guard them, but just in case anyone slipped by, Spear created spheres of protection to serve as a shield against any attack, and he surrounded Noah, Daphne and himself. While Spear started to control his power, he saw Perun burst into a flaming creature, with black wings that seemed to be infected with white colors. Then, Spear lost himself to his thoughts, his powers activated, and he could only see darkness.

Then, a flash of light, and he could see everything. He saw the bodies of the many fallen Dovahs that died during the hunt against the Interlopers. In the middle of the body littered ground, he saw Scorpio, his heart pierced, and his body lay soulless. Then, his eyes filled with life, and he got up. Spear stood back in shock and terror at this sight, he didn't realize this was only in his spiritual mind. Scorpio plucked the halberd from his chest, and tossed it to the ground, and then gave Spear a brotherly hug.

As Spear was in question, Scorpio calmed him, saying that it was not his soul that died, and that there is hope for him to live. Spear begged him to tell him how, he said he only knew that the coming Alduin must be defeated, before he could return. Spear was still in question, but Scorpio assured him that he would be a guide of what to do, and where to go throughout his life from now on. Scorpio then touched his necklace, which Spear bared on his chest, and Spear filled with increased power. The Blessing of the Zodiacs, only given to those worthy enough to fight by the side of a Star.

As Spear started calming down, his heart filled somewhat with anger, as he still remembered the deaths of the many Dovahs, and Scorpio. Then his heart filled somewhat with love, as his brotherly relationship with Daphne reigned in his heart, he knew he had to defend her. He didn't even think about his family, his friends, or even anyone else he was supposed to save, and he even forgot about the deaths. All he thought of was Daphne, and even the thought of her being injured haunted him… so he protected her.

In the physical realm, Noah was breaking water from the ground, and Daphne was moving water from all bodies of water, just as planned. Interlopers expectantly charged towards them, but then a fiery creature came crashing down, and looked at them. Horns grew a meter long each, body of a demon, with huge hawk-like wings colored charcoal and streaks of pure white, a tail meters long reached around the creature, and at the end, was an axe, all the while the creature was violently flaming, and was hold a huge Greatsword in one hand, and a Battleaxe on a thick chain in the other. It was Perun, in his true Rising Demonic form, filled with rage. Still in the stage of horror, the Interlopers were then crashed into by Perun, while he wailed his axe around and flurried his sword at them, they felt fear. Even in their terrified state, they fought hard against Perun, though they knew they couldn't take him down, they just needed to get past him. Due to Perun's arrogance in attacking them, many Interlopers ran past him and towards the flooding trio.

Though they got close to them they stopped in horror, as they looked at one of the three. Spear was glowing lightning bright, and a hurricane the size of the entire world started. Even Perun looked in confusion, he knew Spear could never use that much power in any given situation, but he did, because of the blessing given by Scorpio's spirit, and Spear's heart filled with the brotherly protection for Daphne. He created the hurricane that not only flailed the opposing Interlopers away, but immediately started filling the earth with the water.

Clans and Kingdoms around the world were taking refuge to hide from the flood. Samurai of the Isles took to the mountains with the Ninjas of Darkness. The Woodlands Weres took refuge in mountains as well, far from the Isles. The Southern Dragons used magic to protect them from the waters, and the Northern Dragons used ships, as they were voyaging Vikings, and loved the challenge of the storm. And the creature of the water took refuge in underwater caves.

The Interlopers were swiftly wiped out, as they couldn't swim or build boats fast enough, they crumbled into jade as they were suffocated by the rising waters. An entire race was wiped out, all except a few remaining Interlopers that managed to get high enough, but they were eventually taken prisoner or driven underground.

Then, when all the destruction was done, Spear and Daphne woke up exhausted in all ways, using that much power greatly diminished their strength. Perun ran to them in a hurry, and tried offering to help them up, but they both refused and just wanted to lay down for a bit. When they somewhat rested they slowly got up, and Spear and Daphne hugged tightly, and then they looked for Noah. When they found him, his body was resting peacefully, a burnt-out husk as he took his final breath using a great amount of power to help them stop the Interlopers.

~*~

And so the floods receded, and life seemed to simply go on. The sparse handful of Interlopers leftover were dragged into hiding, and their prisoners found their way free of their chains and back to their homes.

Daphne's blue eyes looked upon Spear's hazel, and smiled wearily. Then, they hugged tightly. Though they had made it in the end, many had sacrificed their life to help them get this far. Their mission was done, and Noah, Scorpio, and the Interlopers went with it.

They returned to the Dovah home land, where celebrations had burst forth like lightning. For the first time in a long time, they allowed themselves to simply rest and enjoy themselves. They ate, drank, and were merry for seven days and seven nights, but no time limit could contain their joy.

Until the bitter taste had set in. So much was lost, and yet they partied. But they reminded themselves that festivity was not meant to diminish the sacrifices made to allow it. They honored those that had fallen by reveling in the peace and freedom they had brought.

Perhaps the world would never be entirely fixed, but they had learned by now that it didn’t matter. Spear had never forgotten his mother’s words, and chose now to share them with his newfound sister. That is why the gods gave us loved ones. To unify us and to lift one another up.

“So what now?” Daphne asked him at one time. “The world will never be the same. It’s like, their entire existence has just been… swallowed whole.”

“Yes, I suppose that was the point. But we’ve done a great thing, you know.” She smiled at him and nodded. “And now we… carry on?”

She sighed.

“...And now we carry on.”

~*~

And so Spear returns to Scandinavia, and continues to be the Spectrum Kendov, Guardian of the Northern dragons. Not only that, but as he bears the necklace of his fallen brother, Scorpio, he feels his night sky presence, watching over him, as if he was right next to Spear. Perun becomes the general of the entire Northern Dragon Dovahs, and sets up a way of communication for Daphne and Spear, making it so that they can continue being siblings. After all of this Spear trains, what he trains for is only in prophecy. At first he didn't believe it, but as soon as he found a scroll prophesying Noah and the flood, Spear began his training to fight Alduin…

Daphne found herself aimlessly wandering when the Flood had finally left. She met the madman Ion again, and helped them raise their religion. And after a while, her path crossed that of the scholarboy from the first city again. They were married in a temple of the Iron God, and when that church no longer accepted them, they fled to build a family and a city of their own. Every now and again, the princess, now queen, would ride the waves north to see her Dovah brothers, just as they went south to meet her, as well.

The Interlopers fell into legend, the ghost stories that would frighten children at night. All had forgotten them but the Faeries and the Dovahs. They mourned for the losses caused across the world, and for all that they had allowed themselves to do and believe. So when the Apollyons came to conquer the Faeries, they accepted their fate in hopes that justice could be served properly this time.

And Iýa? She tore out her own heart to make the prison the Interlopers requested, where Asem rots to the present day. Her body, similarly, decays in a cavern just below it, as do the few remaining Interlopers and the Apollyon knight who failed to seize her. The Wormwood trees had long since pulled it into an underground cavern, wiping its memory from all those above. All that was left was a scar. Although Dovahs were disconnected from this magic, therefore they could remember all.

Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned here. About the envy of Adam, about the failures of the Fae, or maybe about the levity blindly doled out by Iýa herself. Or maybe it's about the teamwork of those who opposed the Interlopers, the love that bound them together, and the relentless courage they wielded. We may never know.

And so, the book closes and another story is shelved.

~*~

Well, dear reader, if you've read this far, I couldn't possibly thank you enough!

And many, many thanks to my little brother, Spear (@jack-spear-eye), for helping me on this!! Scorpio, Perun, and Kendov (Warrior) Spear (his self-insert), and the Dovahs are all his creations; Daphne is mine. We created the plot together, and the worldbuilding in general belongs to djkaktus (based on SCP-6666, 4840, and 4812).

Lil' man, I swear, he was the best partner on this! Every time I hit a roadblock, he had a new idea that got the gears turning again. It was a big commitment, too, I mean, just look at all that text! But we pulled it off, and I'm glad we did!

Fearless and creative optimist you are, I couldn't have done it without you, Spear.

So without further ado, here's the man to talk about it a little, too!

I did this not for my own gain, but to show others a message of unity, as well as to entertain. Normally I would say something in dovahzul (Dragon tongue/language) But pretty much I just want to say thank you all very much for giving me the chance to be a part of this community, and I want to personally thank Andy (@the-siren-and-the-sailor) for giving me the chance to do all of this, and giving me something to look forward to :•)

And last but not least, the TL;DR!