#the reason it came to me is linked in the word assassinated if anyone is curious

[mistrial]

❝ there are better hills to die on but i find this one quite comfortable. ❞

@survivall / jordan riley. ★ meme.

         THEY'RE OUTSIDE ON THE BALCONY OF OWEN'S DORM.  he's leaned over the railing on his arms, smoking a cigarette and occasionally flicking the ashes out into the wind to be carried away above the heads of other students. they've been sharing unpopular opinions with each other--- harry styles isn't hot, imagine dragons can only write one song, etc--- and until now it had been very lighthearted and more or less the opinions were agreed upon. this one, though, the one that jordan concludes is a comfortable hill to die on, is one that owen finds to be dangerous. when she finishes her statement he drops his cigarette unceremoniously into the ashtray on the small table beside him and spins to face her to back her into his room, shutting the door with his foot.

          "---you can't just say things like that outside where anyone could hear you, jordan," he tells her seriously, and then the left side of his mouth twitches upward toward becoming a barely contained smile. "you can't just say taylor swift is FINE. you could be assassinated. and then who would i talk to?"

[glareandgrowl]

5, 11, 16, and 19 please.

(Link to ask)

Absolutely!

5. Anything you haven’t drawn yet but want to?

I've got so many ideas of stuff I want to draw, but just never get the time to do. The most recent fanfic comic I did was one of them until recently! But I guess a few would be some scenes from Assassins! that I haven't gotten around to illustrating, some more character study sheets, as well as an entire long running comic I plan to create once Cigarettes and Assassins! are both complete! Just to name a few...

In terms of like... concepts or physical things and ideas I have wanted to draw but haven't, I don't really have any qualms. I'm pretty good at just doing whatever I feel like in that regard lol.

11. Favorite comment you’ve ever recieved on your work?

I don't receive many comments on my stuff, which is unfortunate but not something I can really change. The one that has stuck out to me the most, however was one that I received on One Mistake when I was still in the middle of finishing it.

It was a bit of an indepth criticism of a certain character dynamic I had made the focal point of that part of the story, and a critique on how I had handled the 'making up' portion of the relationship.

While criticism may not be the first thing most people think of in terms of 'favorite comments' I cherish it for the sole reason that it was the first time anyone had given me an analytical response to something I had meant to be taken with that analytical context. It was the reply I was hoping people would give to the part of a story I had put a lot of time, effort and continuity into. Plus, the ideas being presented were things I had already been toiling over in my rewrite of One Mistake to begin with, so that was also pretty cool to feel like I was sharing a mindset with someone absorbing my creation.

I also just now realized this was meant for art stuff and not fanfic lol. Same applies to artwork I guess, still don't get many comments so none in particular really stand out.

16. What’s the most daunting part of your process? Ex, planning, sketching, lineart, rendering etc

hmmm.... that is a thought provoker for sure. I don't really have one part of the artmaking process I favor over the others, since it is all just kind of a process for me. Ever since I started this cool thing of turning my sketches into my lineart via the airbrush tool in Paint Tool Sai, I haven't really had any problems!

I'd say the most daunting process is just getting started. Putting pen to paper and just doing sometimes seems impossible. But if I just force myself to sit down and start, it usually turns out ok.

19. Favourite character(s) to draw?

You'd expect me to say Kiyotaka. Which is half true, mainly because I've drawn him so much and he has been the catalyst to change my art style entirely. But believe it or not, I used to never draw people, like at all. I was a furry artist in the lamest sense of the word, since most of my OC's at the time were animals in some capacity. So I really should give it to Taka for pushing me out of my comfort zone and forcing me to take the daunting journey of learning over two years how to draw people good.

The characters that are my real true favorites to draw are my OC's of course. James, Goose and The Oposstag to be specific!

They're my babies, my darlings, my easiest things to draw. James specifically, used to be my go-to if I was ever in a slump and needed to draw something easy and simple. Bones and furry creatures have always been my specialty when it came to art, (If you've seen any of my animal-ish drawings you could see the difference in quality compared to drawing people) It just always has come easier to me than drawing people, but as an artist, I need to push myself out of my comfort zone to improve, and I'd say I've done a pretty good job improving!

Thank you so much for the ask, I hope I answered it all in good proper english and good proper wordage :)))

-Goose

[monsterlover48]

Part 1: The Meeting

<<Masterlist>> <<Previous>> <<Next>>

Bodyguard!Orc x Princess!Reader

Summary: Y/N, the princess of Evermore, the beauty of the west. She had many suitors, many men, and women who wanted her by their side. Too bad her eyes were already set the day he came to save her life.

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks (sorta), medieval fighting

~~~ Princess Y/N was a kind soul. Always tended to her princess duties and went out of her way to give to the lower class. Everyone loved her, and they knew she would be a wonderful queen.

When word got out about the attempted assassination, the people were outraged that someone would dare hurt their beloved princess. Y/N Could still feel the man's glove-clad hand grasp her face to silence her screams every time she closed her eyes, and she didn't know how to get the image out of her head.

The morning breeze soothed her warm skin as she walked outside and into the growing gardens of her castle. The beautiful greens of the grass and plants paired with the myriad of colours that decorated the flowers set the frantic princess' mind at ease. She had one hell of a night, and it took hours for her to get a good night's rest. Her mind was plagued with nightmares of her death and the death of her people. She just wished it wouldn't come true.

Y/N had worn a lilac dress that morning, lace on the sleeves, and a large bow on the back. It was her favorite, and she wanted to wear it to bring up her mood. She didn't want anyone to see the wound on her arm, but the bulk of the bandages showed through her frilly sleeves.

"M'lady. The king requests you." Y/N handmaiden, Cassandra, spoke quietly, breaking the serenity of the garden. The princess's shoulders deflated, and she hung her head low before she smiled at her friend.

"Do you know what about?" She asked, linking her good arm with Cassandra's. The maiden giggled and shook her head playfully.

"Your knight is coming to protect you. They're having a contest to see who could protect you the best." Cassandra grinned. Y/N's cheeks flushed, and she gasped.

"Today? Do I look alright?" The woman began to unnecessarily judge herself, muttering curses of how she should have done her hair better.

"You look fine." Cassandra giggled. They walked down the large corridor and through the guards that stood straighter at the sight of their princess. Y/N nodded and bowed to everyone she passed politely, a smile stuck on her face in her princess facade.

"Daughter, you took long enough." Her father playfully scolded, holding a hand out to help her into the royal chair. They were in the courtyard where entertainers, fighters, or jousters came to do their thing.

As Y/N looked amongst the crowd, she saw many creatures in knight armor. Ranging from tieflings to humans. But one she hadn't seen before, someone massive in size. It was well known that Evermore was more of the accepting kind when it came to other races, but not many creatures of that size came to the lovely kingdom. And they were all fighting for her favor as a personal guard. She felt as though the taller one would win. She couldn't see his face or even his skin to tell what he could be, but she didn't care. The princess didn't necessarily want a personal guard, but if she was to get one, she wanted it to be someone who could truly protect her life.

"Which do you think would win, princess?" A voice asked behind her. Y/N turned to see a man she's never met before. He was handsome; bright blue eyes and dark brown hair with chiseled features, but she wasn't too interested. He smiled at her with an attempt to be charming, but she knew the play.

"The tall one." She replied, pointing towards the looming figure as he practiced by his lonesome.

"Ah yes, that one. He seems pretty strong." He chuckled, and Y/N realized he had an accent that wasn't from Evermore.

"What's your name?" Y/N asked curiously. However, before he could respond, the tournament speaker began his speech about the rules and how the tournament would go.

The trumpets sounded, and two knights stepped up before they began to fight. Swords clashing and metal banging sounded around the courtyard, and Y/N was on the edge of her seat every time a knight fell. She hoped they weren't too injured, but she had to admit, it was interesting to watch them fight.

By the time the last two were up, it was two large men, clad head to toe in thick armor, but Y/N noticed the one she kept her eyes on. The tall one with bulging muscles. She bit her lip as they started, gasping when the clashing of swords and their blasts against armor. But ultimately, she was correct; the tall one was the champion. The crowd cheered loudly as the last man fell, and the tall man roared triumphantly.

The princess stood from her place and straightened out the skirt of her dress. Everyone gasped when the creature took off his helmet, revealing an orc to be the champion. Orcs used to be the villains of Evermore's story, but the war had ended, and they were at peace. However, that doesn't mean many orcs came into Evermore and never came to protect their princess. Y/N looked around at the shocked faces of her people and squared her shoulders before she walked out of the royal seating and to the courtyard where the champion stood.

Everyone watched their princess with wary eyes and shifted in their seats as she approached him. The closer she looked, he was taller than she expected. Thrice her size, and he had a scowl upon his handsome features. His skin was a pale green, and he had large tusks sticking out from his mouth. His mean stare didn't detour the princess as she smiled and bowed politely to the knight.

"It seems you have won. What is your name?" She asked, clasping her hand behind her back. He huffed a piece of stray black hair away from his eyes, the long strands reaching past his shoulders. He bowed to her when she walked closer, propping his arm onto his knee.

"Rhudrak Fang Cracker." He replied. His voice was gruff, as though he had gargled rocks before he spoke.

"Well, Rhudrak Fang Cracker. It is nice to meet you. I will be happy to work with you." The crowd cheered then, the piercing noise almost startling the princess. She turned to look at the crowd before looking back at her knight.

"Yes! This man is my daughter's champion. The one who will protect her with his life. Do you agree?" Her father asked, walking into the courtyard as well. Her father was a very accepting man, and no matter the fact that he witnessed orcs kill many of his people, he would never discriminate against a man who wanted to protect his only daughter.

"I agree," Rhudrak responded. King Gustus nodded, and Y/N smiled at the crowd as the royal family plus the knight and other guards walked back to the castle. Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at the steely man. She found it very interesting that an orc would want to protect her. And he looked so mysterious. She just wandered-

"Y/N, dearest." Her mother scolded. Y/N tore her eyes away from her knight with warm cheeks and turned to her mother.

"Yes, mother?" She asked. Meira shook her head disapprovingly and continued walking.

"Your father was talking to you." She hissed. Y/N bowed her head in embarrassment, and she could've sworn she saw a ghost of a smile on her Rhudrak's face.

"While you were in your fantasy land, I was discussing the rules of your supervisor and how you must act." He told her with a kind and understanding smile. Y/N was very close to her father, and she was glad to have him understand how easy it was for her to get lost in the clouds. Unlike her strict mother.

"What are his rules?"

"No. Your rules." Her father corrected. Y/N gasped and choked on her spit before she looked at the people in front of her.

"What do you mean 'my' rules?" Y/N asked incredulously.

"You are not to leave the sight of Rhudrak. The only time you will be alone is when in your chambers, safe. You will do what he asks of you. If he tells you to run, to hide, or even to walk, you do it. He is there to protect you; let him do his job. No running around the halls in the middle of the nights anymore. People are after you, my dear, and I couldn't stand losing you. It almost happened once, and I will not let it happen again." Her father told her. She wanted to roll her eyes, to pout and say 'not fair.' But she almost died that night. The visions still haunt her in her sleep and even during the day. She knew if she wanted to survive, she must do what her father asks of her.

"Yes, father." She replied solemnly, all traces of humor gone from the conversation.

"Now go make yourselves acquainted while showing him his room. It's the one next to yours." Y/N nodded and looked at her parents awkwardly as they walked away.

"Your room is this way on the third floor," Y/N spoke. She was exhausted from the excitement of the day and had zero social energy, but she knew she had to do it anyways.

"Third floor? How do you even get upstairs with those tiny shoes on?" Rhudrak chuckled. Y/N hid her giggle behind her hand and shook her head as they approached the stairway.

"With difficulty. Try walking around hours a day with a corset on." She scoffed. Rhudrak laughed loudly but quickly quieted down.

"Tell me about the night of your attack." He asked suddenly. Y/N was taken aback by the sudden question as they walked up the many stairs.

"Well... I couldn't sleep. I think that's the only reason I'm alive right now. He wore a black mask with strange symbols on it. He was human-sized. That's all remember." She said. She was lying of course. She could remember so much more. The blue of his eyes and the stench of leather as his hand clamped down onto her mouth. She couldn't breathe when he sat on her. She felt hopeless and the gleam of the moonlight on his blade made her shiver with unease.

"Princess?" Rhudrak asked gently, looking at her with a thoughtful gaze. She snapped out of her wandering thoughts and shook her head with a smile.

"Well, here you are. My chambers are right here. I'll let you get settled in." She said with a bow, walking back to her room. She shut the door gently and allowed herself to break slightly at the memory of her attack, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks.

Taglist!

@vanta-monsters @inosh-k @sylum

[incomingalbatross]

Hi! It's me again. I was hoping you could maybe answer another question for me, like Gandalf in a benevolent mood. Why did Gandalf wish to help Thorin in the first place? I know he wanted to remove Smaug as a threat, but Thorin was mainly focused on retrieving some treasure, rather than defeating the dragon. In the end, someone unconnected to the quest killed Smaug and Laketown was destroyed in the process. Did Gandalf have a plan?

Happy to hear from you! :)

My understanding is that Gandalf and Thorin were basically on the same page regarding objectives and plans: specifically, both of them wanted Smaug dead, and neither of them started out with a solid plan to make that happen. :P

Thorin, from what I can tell, very much wanted Smaug dead; according to the Appendices he'd been brooding over the lost treasures and vengeance for a long time. In his speeches, and in the Dwarves' song, reclaiming the "harps and gold" and "bringing their curses home to Smaug" are always at least implicitly linked—they're already fairly well-off in their new homes, after all, but the Mountain is their home and Thorin wants it back.

Gandalf, on his end, sees the Watchful Peace drawing to a close and wants the landscape as well-prepared as it can be, so yes, having a Dragon in the northeast and no strong opposing power nearby is a very present concern. Thus he feels justified in giving Thorin & Co. his time and help. (Although of course he wouldn't have if A) they didn't genuinely want to do this for their own reasons and B) their reasons weren't also for a worthy cause.)

As far as plans go... well, before seeing the map and key at Bag End, Thorin, in his own words, "had no clear idea what to do" once they reached the Mountain. The initial plan was just to get there, and then... see what came next, I think. Gather intel.

Then Gandalf adds the secret entrance and the suggestion of a burglar, both elements suited to stealth and recon, and Bilbo suggests going there and "sitting on the doorstep." And that is, I think, as much of a plan as anyone here has.

So, essentially, the Dwarves planned to get there, gather intel (reasonable, given none of them had been there in decades!!), and then wing it. Which they end up doing. Gandalf's contribution was to help them get moving, offer some advice and resources, and leave the rest to them; as he very properly says, it's their quest, and he has other things to do.

...I think that, in general, Gandalf doesn't exactly make plans for other people; he doesn't consider it his place to stage-manage every quest in Middle-Earth, just to help other people get started on their own jobs if they ask him for a hand. Defeating Smaug is a good and important objective, but he's not commissioning Thorin to do it; it's Thorin's quest. Gandalf just thinks it's important enough to justify signing himself on as a metaphorical contractor for a while. If he didn't think the Dwarves had a shot, I assume he'd have told them so! But he didn't think out the whole deal for them, either.

(And in all fairness to the Dwarves, their expedition DID uncover Smaug's weak spot! And if Smaug hadn't been provoked into attacking Lake-town so soon, I can definitely see the Dwarves attempting some kind of assassination via the secret door and said weak spot. Things just... escalated. Quickly.)

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 20

TW: Explicit violence, mentions of guns, drugs trafficking, gory killing scene

Words Count: 3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 21

At first, you’re more like a property to him. He learned that the only way he can keep something or someone around for a long time, is if he treats them like a property. Because human’s feelings change, and he needs to protect himself from hurting.

Everything that he’s told you, the reason behind the marriage, the purpose of you are all true.

He needs to marry anyway, as one of the stupid ancient condition his old father has set and he knows his father had set it to make him stay grounded.

He scoffs, wondering why his father doesn’t learn from his past mistakes. And that’s why he’s made a plan on his own, to marry someone without a powerful background, one he can easily dispose when it’s time, one who won’t be a liability to him. A tool.

And now that tool is missing. He pinches his temple, eyes shut close. He’s alone in his office, late at night because he doesn’t sleep well these days.

Since his wife had packed her bags, left him and gone missing.

He sighs thinking about the last argument he had with you. It’s your own fault for building castles in the air and mistaking those as his genuine gesture and fall in love with him. And he realises that because he is not stupid. And during that one night, he sees you, fully sees you and he can’t deny the desire it stirred in his mind. This may be a temporary marriage but it doesn’t mean that he can’t touch you. After all, you are his wife. He knows you are beautiful, he’d known it since the first day because he isn’t blind. Yet he knows he can’t touch you without your consent. Although he did slip up because he tends to lose his vigilance around you. And that’s how he came up with another proposal.

Yet the proposal took a very different turn and became your last straw to leave him.

He couldn’t believe that you’re stupid enough to fall in love with him. Don’t you fear him? You know he’s dangerous yet you still confess your love to him and he doesn’t know whether to worship you at your feet or spanks you for it.

He’s never led you on and has never failed to remind what you are to him, simply an object yet you still fall for him.

He lets out another heavy sigh. Because frankly, he doesn’t know what to do. All of these aren’t supposed to happen and you’re not supposed to love him.

He had put up barriers and boundaries around himself and that’d made it very hard for anyone to simply approach him. People don’t approach him unless they want something from him and he’s well aware of it because he knows how the world works. Not to mention the fact that he’s the leader of the biggest mafia gang, notorious for all sorts of services they offer; machinery, assassinations, bribery, illegal weaponry, drugs trafficking and namely everything else. That had made it a billion times more difficult for anyone to approach or him to let anyone in.

And you’re well aware of it.

But you still fall for him.

He just doesn’t get it; how you’re able to fall for him despite knowing who he is and what he’s capable of.

He scoffs thinking how he could easily kill you. You’re too soft, weak and fragile.

Yet you still fall for him.

Despite knowing how easily he could kill you.

And without asking for anything in return.

And Jimin doesn’t find that believable at all. And at the face of such genuine adoration, he doesn’t know what to do. Because who on earth would be stupid enough to do that?

But you did. You are his stupid wife.

And that makes it even easier to kill you, not just by him. And the thought of anyone laying a finger on you angers him. It makes him want to kill someone. Tear their limbs one by one. Burn them alive. There’s just too many options.

But first he has to find you.

He sighs, for the hundredth time. You’re such a headache.

And that’s when his phone rings. A call from a private number.

“If it isn’t Y/N’s beloved husband..”

Jimin could feel his whole body tensing. “Who are you?”

The person from the other end laughs. “Damn, I need to come find you more often so you’d remember. You beat me into a pulp before.. and now I want leverage. You think you can just take my sister for free?“

Jimin’s hand clamp in a tight fist. “Jay.”

“You remember.. not bad. You see, when you take my little sister, you’ve caused me some complications. You can say she’s my source of income. She’s a pretty slut, no denying that. And I could’ve earned fortunes from selling her off. And you-“

“How much do you want?” Jimin cuts him off.

“Ah.. you’re a smart man.” He laughs before his tone turns serious again. “100 million won would do. For now. And don’t bullshit me saying you don’t have money or whatever. I know you have that much.”

“Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll text you the time and place. And don’t think of calling the police or bring your little friends. I have someone powerful backing me. She’s my little sister, but I’m not gonna hesitate to do anything if you don’t listen to my words. Right, little sister?”

A shrieking scream piercing through the phone is the last thing Jimin hears before Jay hangs up. Jimin’s whole body filled with rage and he grips his phone so tight it almost breaks into two.

“He’s not gonna come...” you slur, your vision not entirely clear and your swollen lips making it hard to enunciate words once Jay finishes his phone call to your husband.

“We’ll see about that bitch. And if he doesn’t.. count your time now..” he says in full malicious tone.

You don’t know how long you’ve been knocked out again but you wake up when you hear commotions.

“And the knight is finally here.” You hear your brother’s voice.

You struggle to focus on your vision. Your whole body freezes when your husband comes into view.

There’s no way Jimin’s here.

Perhaps it’s just a hallucination.

It’s a whole level of pathetic, you think. Because even when you’re in this state, he’s all you could see.

Perhaps you’re really nearing the end of your life, and your mind conjures whatever it desperately wants the most.

“Clara, what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” The person hisses.

And it’s weird because it’s your husband’s voice.

You blink several times.

And there really is your husband, walking into the warehouse alone. He can’t had possibly willingly walks into a lion’s den alone like that? It’s like a death wish.

Clara turns immediately as soon as she sees Jimin. “Ah.. Jimin.. my Jimin..”

Someone comes and pushes Jimin forward and makes him sit on a chair and tie his hands on his back.

You swallow thickly. You still can’t process the fact that your husband is here.

He finally turns to look at you and he stares at you for several moments, just taking in the sight of battered you covered in bruises and blood and you see the clench in his jaw.

You let out a gasp when the guy standing beside him takes out his gun and points the muzzle on the back of his head. You feel anger bubbling inside you at the sight of it.

Gathering all source of strength, you yell, “Leave my husband out of this Jay!”

Jay quickly steps forward and leaves a stinging slap on your cheek. “If you dare hurt him..” you start and earns another slap from him, making you whimper in pain. You cough several times, your throat feels like burning.

Jimin eyes you furiously. “Keep quiet. Don’t make any sound.” He says, jaw still clenched very tightly. “Clara, what the fuck is this? Why are you here?”

She comes and slowly sits on Jimin’s lap. You notice how he doesn’t flinch away or jerk from her touch. “Baby.. we’ve dealt for years.. good business, good sex. And then you’re suddenly married and you just.. I don’t know, changed?” She says as she runs her fingers across your husband’s cheek.

Jimin just glares at her. “Why did you help him?”

She runs her hand down from his cheeks to his jaw and then settles on his chest, palms flat against them. She shrugs then. “I don’t know.. you know I’m a little crazy. I like having fun. And things.. had been boring. Business is boring, you are boring.. and perhaps I’m trying to put you in place a little, you asshole.” She glares at him.

He gives a very murderous look. “I’m gonna make sure you regret this.”

She leans closer. “Awww shh baby.. I’m not gonna hurt your precious little wife..” and closer. You realize she’s about to kiss him and you hastily look away. You don’t want the last memory you have of your husband before you die is being kissed by another woman. She gets up from his lap, fingers still faintly brushing him everywhere. Then she smirks. “But maybe he will.” She laughs and then exits through the door.

“Did you come with what I ask for?” Jay asks and Jimin juts his chin towards a large black duffel bag on the floor beside him that you hadn’t realized. Jay grins. “Nice doing business with you.. brother in law.”

“Now let us go.” Jimin says.

Jay stops inspecting the money inside the bag and turns to look at him. “No, don’t think it’s that easy..” He signals something and one of his men comes forward. “See, perhaps you don’t really know my sister.. but let me tell you this. She is a fucking whore. And I’m gonna let her be a whore. And you.. you’re going to watch every single men here stick their dick into her pussy.”

Your whole body goes numb as soon as you hear that. Desperately, you glance at your husband. He doesn’t look at you but instead just stares at your brother. You’ve never seen him look so murderous before. Your eyes widen in panic when they pull you from the chair and then roughly push you till you’re kneeling on the floor on all four.

“J-Jimin-” you say, voice thick with desperation.

“Sshh.. shh little sister.. don’t worry.. perhaps your husband might even get hard from this. Don’t you want to please your husband?” Jay smirks.

You feel you eyes start to water when your brain reaches an end and think that there’s no way of escaping this.

He calls one of his men and several others starts to approach as well, all wearing the same look of lust. Jay grabs a handful of your hair and yank it backwards, forcing you to look up. “She’s all yours..”

The nearest guy smirks and licks his lips as he looks at you and starts to strip his pants. You look away immediately. You let out a cry when the guy kneels beside you and yanks your jeans down, exposing your bottom.

“No, no please, please-“ you start to beg and Jimin hisses.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” He grits. “Don’t beg.”

You look at him and find him staring right back at you.

“Just look at me.” He says and fresh set of tears run down your cheeks.

The guy smacks your behind making you cry in pain and you almost collapse to the ground but he holds your waist firmly, groping each side harshly. Then, you feel a hand slides from your shoulder towards your throat and slowly starts choking you.

Your head starts to spin from the lack of air supply and you want to scream so badly but no words could come out. The pressure on your throat is so immense and your lung starts to ache.

Then you see a knife hovering in front of you.

A moment of realization hits you that you’re really about to die and it suddenly makes it so imperative that you tell something to Jimin.

“J-Jimin- I love-“

But before you could finish your words, you hear people bursting the doors open and people in suits come rushing in large quantity.

You try to focus your vision on your husband.

His face is calm. Too calm.

Your sight moves towards the crowd rushing in again and briefly sees Taeseok among them and a rush of relief runs through you. The guy choking you eases his grip on your throat instantly as he gets distracted and you feel like collapsing immediately as you struggle to breath again.

Everything happens so quickly. Someone rushes to your husband’s side and unties him and then he’s beside you instantly while someone else unties you. You try your best to glance behind you and sees Jungkook frantically untying you after fixing your clothes.

“Y/N oh my god-“

Jimin quickly shrugs his coat off his shoulder and immediately covers you. He looks at you as he holds you tight. His embrace is so warm and you just want to close your eyes and lean against him. “Keep your eyes open, we’re getting out of here.” He says roughly.

You’re not entirely sure with your vision but you think someone gives Jimin a gun and he starts shooting at people and you freeze, sounds blaring so loudly in your ear. You let out a strangled scream and you squirm away under his embrace that he looks down immediately. Then he looks at Jungkook.

“Jungkook.” He says and Jungkook nods and you feel yourself slipping out of Jimin’s hold while Jungkook brings you flush against him.

For a moment, there are just sounds of guns, people screaming and punches being thrown.

Jungkook pulls you to the side where it’s safer but you just can’t shut your eyes when there’s too many things going on. You then try to focus on your husband. He’s a good few metres away from you and you couldn’t clearly see the face of the other person but you think Jimin’s holding the guy that was going to rape you just now. And then he shoots him right in the head without thinking. And then another shot right at his chest even though the guy’s already crumbling to the ground, lifeless.

Someone then comes up and thrusts your brother to Jimin, making him kneel in front of your husband. You don’t see it before but you now notice that he’s holding a knife on his right hand. Jay’s expression turns horror as Jimin nears him. And then slowly, your husband carves his face with the knife as your brother’s inhuman shriek fills the warehouse.

Your eyes go wide with horror as you watch the traumatising scene unfolds. You feel a scream bubbling from deep inside your throat yet they’re unable to escape from your lips. Your throat somehow still feels constricted.

“Holy fucking shit.” Jungkook mutters and you realize his grip on your arms tightens.

It’s slowly getting more quiet in the warehouse as most of your brother’s or Clara Kim’s men are now dead as they were hugely outnumbered by Jimin’s people. You then realize that he’s taking his time with your brother.

“What did you say you’re about to do to my wife? Cut out her face?” He chuckles. “Let me show you the real art.”

He leans close.

And then he carves your brother’s right eye out while he shrieks in pain.

“This is for touching my wife.”

And then he carves the other one.

“This is for messing with me.”

The scream finally escapes your lips.

“Fuck-“ Jungkook says and quickly covers your eyes and mouth.

The screaming doesn’t stop for a few more minutes and you think you’ll remember your brother’s inhuman scream till the day you die.

“Jimin stop it. She’s gonna get a trauma.” You hear someone says. Jin..?

You hear footsteps approaching you and then suddenly, Jungkook’s hand is being yanked away and your husband’s face comes into view. His forehead beaded with sweat and his expression furious.

You look at him in horror, frankly still traumatised and terrified at him.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he thrusts a gun into your hand. “Do you want to kill him?”

Your panic immediately and clutched his arm desperately. “No, no please- let’s just go-“

“Ssh.. ssh I’m here.” He takes back the gun. “And we’re gonna get out of here.” He pulls you into his embrace, cocks the gun and fire a shot straight into Jay’s head.

Your entire body freeze. You watch in horror as your brother’s life starts seeping out, his breathing ragged until finally.. it stops.

“Good God- did you really have to shoot him in front of Y/N?” You hear Namjoon says.

“What?” Jimin asks, confused.

“God, you’re so stupid sometimes Park Jimin.” Yoongi says roughly.

Your husband finally turns to look at you and registers the paleness of your face. “Y/N, you okay?” He asks and then makes you stand to your feet. He keeps his hand steady on your waist and you’re thankful because you can’t feel your feet at all.

You don’t know how but from the corner of your eyes, you see someone who’s lying on the floor slowly lifts a gun and your eyes widen when you realize he’s aiming at your husband.

One of Jimin’s bodyguard sees it too and moves to kick the gun away and he did- but not before the guy cocks the gun and all the bodyguard manages to do is change the target, because the bullet hits you instead.

You fell to the ground immediately when the bullet cuts through your shoulder. It’s weird because it hurts so much that you almost feel nothing at all.

Jimin’s eyes widen when he sees you.

For a brief moment, you think you see your whole life flashes by in your mind very quickly.

If you die right now at the hands of your husband.. that you’d fallen in love with.. it doesn’t seem so bad..

You smile.

Then slowly, you bring your hand up to Jimin’s face to touch him one last time.

And then everything blacks out.

A/N: I rarely write post chapter notes because I’m afraid it would destroy your emotions lol but I just wanna thank everyone who had given support since day 1.. the story would not have come this far without the kind words you guys gave me. I feel a little bit emotional because we’re almost more than halfway through with their journey.. haha okay I’ll stop here. see you guys in the next chap! 🥰

Buy me a coffee here! 💜

Link to Chapter 21

Posted on 210516 9:00PM

[omgkalyppso]

Dang, that one FE 3 hopes fancomic on twitter wasn't kidding; Lorenz can win the entire War by himself, while Shez & Claude gets pizza. For real, he has an ability that makes him invincible AKA taking NO DAMAGE. A YouTuber posted videos about this, with today showing a LEVEL ONE Lorenz can still solo carry on hard while reaching S-Rank results.

Quickly scrolled through my twitter to see if I'd retweeted what you're referring to with 0 memory of it, but I don't think I have. If anon or anyone else has a link, I'd love to see it? asdfasd

I've seen a bunch of jokes about Lorenz taking No Damage though and they're all so funny. sdfgsdfgs Good for him, and his gilded Gloucester roses.

Tbh I hadn't played him a lot yet. When I first finished GW I moved onto AG and then SB, and then went back and spent all my in-game money in each save file on the various gifts in the shop to see each character's C support with Shez (DIDN'T SAVE so I could reuse the gifts / keep my gold), and Then went back a few times to replay fights in GW to level up characters I hadn't been using (I had been using Lorenz) for the sake of party balance and seeing their C supports amongst each other.

(LONG negativity and spoilers of the content in the demo and 3 houses below the cut)

Additionally, I am dismayed about Lorenz thus far. Besides him not having an A support with Hilda, there's no dialogue for their C support I unlocked, and his C support with Claude is stuck behind a plot point "These characters will not be able to increase their support for some time," and Lorenz's C support with Shez hurt me personally sdfjkhbsdkjfg . Because I'm a Big Baby.

So like, I was on the verge of not liking Lorenz the first time I played fe3h, and I was so shocked and romanced and enamored and whatever about his postskip content in VW, both in his supports and otherwise, but all that character growth came from a year of missions with Byleth / My Unit / Fae and 5 years of war. 3 Hopes will be set primarily 2 years into the war, after what amounts to barely half a mission with Shez / My Unit / Avery, Lorenz isn't on a path to personal growth as far as I can tell, and has no need to be.

I'm distressed that Count Gloucester giving Acheron a device that controls demonic beasts causing the assassination of Duke Godfrey von Riegan and Raphael's parents will never come up. While three houses didn't provide Lorenz the opportunity to speak on this, one could at least imagine that he was informed. He had time to make more than acquaintance with the commoners at the academy, to be more than suspicious of Claude. He had reason to question his worldview.

In Verdant Wind there is a moment where Claude reassures Lorenz that he wouldn't ask him to fight his father, to which Lorenz responds that while he's glad of that he would, if asked, because his serves his people (of Fodlan? Gloucester? I forget). I'm not coordinated enough to manage the datamine well:

But we have this other moment in 3 Hopes so far where Claude has instead asked Lorenz in wording that felt very similar, whether he would fight his father.

And Lorenz stayed silent, but there was the strong implication that he would not, in my opinion. He has no need to question what he's learned, and based on the pacing of the demo I'm unconvinced there will be the time to.

And then there was Lorenz's C support with Shez where he tells Shez that as a commoner he should not be leading troops, and he goes on about how it's the nobility's responsibility to look after commoners and concludes by offering his protection to Shez if Shez requires it. There is the option to thank Lorenz, and so i do, and Shez says something to the effect of, "Oh, I thought you were here to complain, but you're actually being nice." And Lorenz can barely control his laughter. He finds it so droll: the very idea! That he could be nice to a commoner! And Lorenz clarifies it isn't kindness, he's simply explaining How Things Are, and Shez realizes that Lorenz is there to complain and the whole thing left me so … sad.

Because it felt like the sort of character analysis of him that I'd write! Where I say that he's actually kind and chivalrous and in love with the idea of love, and isn't just this hollow misogynist ideal of duty. Why the olive branch to Lysithea, the acceptance of Leonie's authority, the admiration of Ignatz's talents, the willingness to aid Hilda, if not because of a respect for others?

So I hadn't gone back to playing Lorenz yet. I expect he will be much as I love him by the end of the game still, but this specific slap in the face hurt me after the plot has already been so unkind.

[emitheduck]

So. We're Soulmates? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: my first soulmate AU, and I figured it was finally time, and bucky deserved one lol. no spoilers whatsoever

Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate’s birthday tattooed on your arm ---

March 10th, 1917.

(Y/n) had always thought, there was no possible way that the universe had ever, ever gotten her soulmate’s birthday right. When everyone was celebrating that their soulmate was around the same age as them, she got to look down in horror as she could practically see her soulmate’s life fly by. There was legitimately no possible way that her soulmate would even still be alive.

The rules of the soulmate were strange, and no one ever understood them or questioned them. It was found out sometime in the 80s that the dates on peoples forearms weren’t random--but the birthday of their soulmate. Because the universe was a cosmic nightmare, when someone’s soulmate died, the numbers went with them.

That’s what made this so strange.

Either (Y/n)’s soulmate was hanging onto life support, or the universe had fucked up and decided it was going to trick her into thinking she could find happiness like everyone else.

She had these feelings up until she got the faithful call one day, that she had landed the job with SHIELD and found out that she would be working in the helicarrier during the attack on New York. And that’s how she met Steve Rogers.

“You know, it’s kind of funny.” Steve sighed with a chuckle, shaking his head as he followed (Y/n) who was leading him to where he would be staying.

“What is?” She asked as she typed in the access code for one of the doors as they walked.

“The number on your arm. That’s my friend’s birthday.” Steve was smirking as he walked into his room. “I mean, it was his birthday.”

(Y/n) looked down at the date on her arm and sighed, her hand instinctively covering the date. “You sure he’s dead? Not some hundred-year-old veteran in a nursing home that you haven’t checked in on or something?” She was trying her best to not sound horrible for joking about his friend's death, but he seemed almost amused by her banter.

“Last I checked, he’s dead. I watched him fall off the train and everything.” He told her as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “His name was Bucky.” He told her as she turned around to leave, watching her stop for a moment to listen before she left.

Steve’s words always lingered in the back of her mind ever since that day on the helicarrier. She had seen the Bucky memorial spot in the museum, and the day she found out that he was alive, she would never forget (mostly because when it happened, she had dropped the bottle of wine she was holding on the floor and spent hours picking up tiny shards of glass).

The year was now 2023. Five years after the blip, and (Y/n) now fully retired from SHIELD. She left on good terms, but the years of working were just exhausting. Especially now that she came back after vanishing for five years and had to rebuild her life all over again. At least they were respectful, and were happy to give her the pay that she had missed out on.

It was hard enough having to deal with knowing all your close friends sacrificed themselves for the whole world, and not being able to do anything about it. That was the reason that kept her up most nights. The guilt of feeling like she could have done something, but never got the chance to, was the hardest feeling.

That’s what led (Y/n) to walking aimlessly around the grocery store at almost 2am. When she couldn’t sleep, sometimes the best thing to do was walk around pushing the cart and praying that the LED lights would calm her down enough to go home and face the empty apartment.

What she didn’t expect was turning the corner of the frozen section and crashing her cart into someone elses. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/n) apologize as she looked at the man in front of her. “I should have been looking. I guess I’m just tired.”

“I’m probably just tired too.” He chuckled, pulling his cart away from hers. Both the carts were empty anway. “You come here to walk around at night too?”

“How could you tell?” (Y/n) laughed, running a hand through her hair as she looked him over. He looked familiar, and knowing her luck he was some assassin that was stalking her, and came here to finish the job.

He motioned to their empty carts with a bob of his head. “Something about just pushing the carts around and listening to the crappy music makes me feel better too.” He smirked as he never broke eye contact. “Also, people normally buy food when they’re shopping.”

(Y/n) sighed, nodding. “You caught me. I’m just here to wander.”

“It’s okay. I am too. Sometimes staring at the TV isn’t enough.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he broke eye contact to look where his hands were gripping the handle of the cart. “Sorry, I’m just rambling I guess.”

“No, I get it.” She laughed it off, knowing it was late and sometimes people just kept talking when they were tired. “My names (Y/n).” She smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He seemed to hesitate, but reached out and shook her hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

She could feel her mouth go dry. “Bucky?” There was just no, possible way that this was the man who has been in the back of her mind for years on end.

“I’m guessing you know who I am.” He muttered, already preparing himself to turn around and forget this interaction never happened. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait! No, I didn’t mean it like that.” (Y/n) exclaimed as she held her hands out to stop him from leaving. “I just have heard so much about you--not the way you think, it sounds so weird. I talked to Steve about you once, way back before the battle of New York.”

She peaked his interest at the mention of Steve. “You knew Steve?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He told me all about you. Look, I even have your birthday on my arm.” She told him, lifting up her sleeve to show him the date on her arm, watching his eyes go wide out of shock. “Steve liked to always tease me that I had your birthday, and I always told him that I probably had some old man, sitting in some hospital bed, decaying before our eyes. Wow, I am rambling, I am so sorry. I should leave.” She was bright red as she decided to just leave her cart where it was and accept the humiliation and leave.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Bucky told her, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. “I guess now that you showed me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He grinned as he let go of her arm, using his left hand to pull up his long sleeve. There on his arm, in bold black numbers was (Y/n)’s birthday clear as day.

“Do you maybe want to go get coffee at that 24 hour place across the street? We might have a bit we need to talk about.” She was dumbfounded. Steve would always tease and joke, telling her that Bucky was her soulmate just because it was the same birthday on her arm. But due to the fact that he was presumed dead for so long, (Y/n) never thought anything of it.

“Are you going to come inside? I’ve been holding the door open for almost a minute.” Bucky asked, laughing a little uncomfortably as he watched the woman just stand at the door of the diner. She didn’t even remember the walk to get there.

(Y/n) blinked, rubbing her eyes as she nodded and walked inside. The sign said seat yourself, and she found a nice seat by the window for the two of them. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little speechless.”

He chuckled as he shifted in the booth. “I’ll be honest. Me too.”

“So. We’re soulmates.” She shrugged, feeling uncertain of herself. Finding her soulmate was never the first thing on her mind, because she never actually thought that she would find him. Sure, the universe also had a way of making the two cross paths at some point, but because of the age, she never cared.

“When I used to see the date on my arm, I thought it was a joke.” He told her, mumbling that he wanted a coffee when the waiter walked over and asked what they wanted. “She wants a coffee. Two cream, one sugar.” He said as the other man nodded and walked away.

“How did you know my coffee order?” She asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Bucky opened his mouth like he was about to speak but sighed. “I legit have no idea. My brain was working for me, and it just came out.”

(Y/n) laughed. “I mean, we’re cosmically linked so it does make sense.” The coffee was set down in front of them and she smiled as she held onto the mug. “Is this when I ask if you can tell me about yourself?”

“Where do I start?” He asked as he set his coffee down after taking a sip. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. James is only for when shit hits the fan I guess.”

“I think I prefer Bucky.” She smiled, watching as his cheeks turned red for a moment.

“What about you Doll? What fun thing do you have to tell me?” Bucky asked her with a smirk, making it her turn to blush.

“I worked for SHIELD, that’s where I met Steve. But then there was that time we found out that Hydra was inside of SHIELD, and technically you tried to kill me.” She pointed out, watching as he put his head down in shame. “But that’s all in the past now. I’m not that person anymore.”

He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. “What changed?”

(Y/n) sighed, shaking her head as she held onto her coffee mug for warmth. “I was pretty close with Steve and Natasha. Tony helped me get the job at SHIELD, too. Three people that I looked up to more than anything, were gone before I ever got a chance to say goodbye.” She told him, knowing that there would be no more tears left to cry. Her tear-ducts seemed to stop working after she had cried for days straight that they were gone.

“I wasn’t very close to anyone but Steve, but I do understand how you feel.” He told her, leaning across the table to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Do you live in the city?”

“I live pretty close to Hell’s Kitchen.” She told him, watching as he nodded. “I’m guessing you live in Brooklyn?”

He looked a little surprised, but still smiled. “How could you tell?”

She smiled back, a little shy. “Some part of me just knew, but the other part of me heard Steve talk about Brooklyn all the time. He loved it there, and I guess I thought you did too.”

“It’s definitely still amazing, but a lot has changed. I’m still getting used to it all.” Bucky confessed, putting down some money for the coffee as they both finished and stood up from the table.

(Y/n) checked her phone and sighed at the time. 3:30 in the morning, and there was no way she was going to sleep now. Now, she was going to ride the train and hope that the rocking of the subway would be enough to turn her mind off for a while. “I should get going. It’s getting late, and I’m taking the train back.”

He nodded, seeming a little uneasy that she was about to leave. “Do you maybe want my number? We could meet up someday, maybe get to know eachother better?”

She grinned as she handed him her phone. “Put your number in.” She told him as they traded phones, smirking as she put in her contact. “I put my information as (Y/n)-Soulmate, just in case you seemed to forget.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Bucky chuckled as he looked at her contact. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Considering the fact I’ve known you for a few hours, and I’m already completely head-over-heels for you, I don’t think you have to worry.” (Y/n) told him, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye for now, but not bye forever.”

Bucky was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it. “I like the sound of that. I still just can’t believe I found you after all these years.”

“You better believe it, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

MASTERLIST

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 8

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  “You have become the only one in the universe who can claim to uniquely know him.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some plot, swearing, reunions, soft!Din, Kuiil thinks Cupid is a fool, Kuiil’s backstory from canon, surprisingly little angst (it shocked me too)

Author Note: I want to apologize to those on the tag list not getting notified. I have no idea why Tumblr isn’t cooperating and I feel horrible about it. I love each and every one of you who spares time to read this segment/series and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

Links to Part 1 and Part 7 and Part 9

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

The next morning you find Kuiil outside welding together two pieces of metal at his workbench. IG-11 tends to the small herd of blurrg the Ugnaught keeps in a large pen, feeding the two-legged creatures their breakfast. Although you were initially wary, the former assassin droid has been nothing but kind to you, if not a little obsessive about checking the bandage on your head every few hours.

“IG was explicitly warned by Death what would happen if your health declined in his absence,” Kuiil had informed you the previous evening when your attempt to stop the droid’s incessant fretting failed.

“He’s such a worrywart,” you muttered as IG-11 scanned your temperature, heart skipping a beat as it always does when you think about Din’s protective nature. There’s something unbelievably attractive about him making threats when it came to your wellbeing.

“A worrywart who left his gunship in my yard.” Kuiil aimed a sharp look towards the entrance of his home, as if he could see the Razor Crest from this distance.

You snorted a laugh at him calling Arvala-7’s desert landscape a yard of all designations, only for the rest of his sentence to register a beat later, making your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Wait, what? He seriously left the Crest here? Why would he do that?”

“The quicker his trip to Nevarro, the quicker he returns to your side,” was the response, accompanied with a shrewd look implying you were a fool for asking such a question.

Your Ugnaught host reminds you of a grandfather figure; a bit prickly and blunt at times, but ultimately kindhearted and selfless at his core, wanting only what’s best for those in his care. Between his insistence you keep resting in his bed and IG-11’s nurse programming, you no longer wonder why Din chose to leave you with them, thoroughly convinced you’re receiving better around-the-clock care than most people experience in medcenters.

Kuiil turns when you approach him, pushing his goggles back to the top of his cap as he clicks off the welding torch, eyes giving you a cursory once-over. You feel better than you had yesterday, both headache and dizziness gone, and he must sense that since his head dips in a firm nod, satisfied with what he sees.

“Good morning,” you greet, smiling.

“Morning,” he replies. His expression turns repentant, eyebrows lowering. “My apologies for waking you, but I could not let these repairs remain unfinished.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, enjoying the warmth of the early sunshine after spending the entire previous day cooped inside his home. “I’m supposed to report back to headquarters later today, so I needed to be up anyways.”

Hearing the words out loud grounds the upcoming meeting in reality. It’s really happening. Hours from now, you're going to have to tell your bosses everything, now including your new title as Din’s soulmate. Maker, you can just imagine Hess staring you down with those beady, rat-like eyes of his, asking question after question about you and Din.

And if Hess was serious before on the comlink—and you highly doubt the bastard’s ever told a joke in his life—then there is also the very real prospect of Moff Gideon being there to take part in your interrogation.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil asks, noticing how pale you’ve become. Without waiting for an answer, he ushers you over to a nearby stool. You sit, mouth opening to reassure him you’re fine, only to be startled by the knowing glint in his eyes. “I recognize your anxious face from my years as an indentured servant. You fear punishment from your superiors.”

Your eyes widen, stomach suddenly feeling hollow. “You were a servant?”

“From my birth until my hundredth year, yes.” The nauseous feeling intensifies. You knew Ugnaughts typically lived up to two-hundred years, meaning Kuiil had lived half of his lifetime in servitude. “Earning my freedom did not occur without harsh discipline.”

You draw in a shaky breath at that. It feels wrong, being worried about meeting with your bosses when there are others, such as Kuiil, who have endured far worse horrors.

“Those with power think it comes from weapons and control over others through means of fear and violence,” he continues, returning the welding torch to its proper placement in his toolbox. “True power comes from the strength of one’s hope. It allows you to believe in a better future for yourself and so long as you cling to it, no enemy can break your spirit.”

His rumbling baritone washes over you, calming the worst of your worries. You press your thumb against your soulmate marking, a nervous habit that has developed since you first saw it yesterday. You’ve become addicted to the warmth the mark emanates as it reassures you you’re not hallucinating its appearance.

“I just keep thinking about what their reactions are going to be when I tell them about me and him being together,” you confess, feeling shy as you duck your chin to avoid eye contact.

“Are you embarrassed of Death being your soulmate?”

Your head snaps back up, shocked by his bluntness. “What? No. Din means everything to me.”

The words seem too loud against the quiet atmosphere of the planet. They reverberate off seemingly every surface—the desert rocks, the Razor Crest’s steel paneling and the metal roof on Kuiil’s home—echoing for miles in every direction. Despite knowing that isn’t truly possible, you are unable to stop yourself from wincing.

“You gave Death a name?” Kuiil’s bafflement is visible in the way his head tilts, looking at you in a way that is reminiscent of Omera’s puzzled expression back on Sorgan.

"I didn’t.” You shake your head, for some reason feeling the need to clarify, “He named himself. It’s just something for me to call him when we’re around mortals.”

“I have known Death many decades now,” he begins, sounding no less confused despite your explanation. “He’s quite...particular about the mortal traditions he chooses to adopt, such as appearing as a human male and piloting a gunship.”

“Yeah, I know how picky he can be,” you say slowly, not understanding what his point is.

“Not once has he ever felt compelled to use a mortal name because, in his opinion, names establish ties."

“What does that mean?”

“Without a name, he is but another stranger amongst trillions of beings, unrecognized and unmissed,” Kuiil explains, and you find yourself leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “By giving you a name to call him by, he has tied himself to you in a way he has not permitted anyone else. You have become the only one in the universe who can claim you uniquely know him.”

“Huh.” You let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of your heartbeat pounding deafeningly in your eardrums as it begins to sink in just how monumental the gift of Din’s name truly is. “Well how bout that.”

And the shrewd look from last night makes a reappearance, conveying once again how foolish he thinks you are.

“I have spoken.”

~~

People tend to forget a Cupid’s bow is first and foremost a weapon of defense. Comprised of wood from a Brylark tree, sinew from orbaks, and a thin layer of a mudhorn’s horn, it can be compared to Din’s armor in that it is virtually indestructible. A Cupid carries two types of arrows: one made from kyber crystal meant to lighten one’s emotions or, on rare occasions, induce lust, and the other one made from a kyber crystal coated in ichor, meant to inflict harm against enemies. Once a target is hit, the effects are instantaneous and the arrow vanishes in a burst of sparkling light, regenerating in your quiver seconds later.

You underwent rigorous training to learn how to become a master of archery. Your bow is bound to your Cupid abilities, capable of being summoned to your aid and dismissed with a mere thought. You were taught how to control your breathing, learning that the expanding and contracting of your chest cavity during a shot can ruin your aim. Missing a target is one of the worst mistakes a Cupid can commit, meaning you must make every single shot count.

All that to say, Cupids are fierce archers as much as they are dedicated matchmakers.

They are also dangerous when startled unexpectedly.

You’re in the middle of tidying up Kuiil’s tiny kitchen space, a task you had insisted upon after he’d served you a delicious lunch, humming to yourself quietly as you scrub at the dishes when hands wrap around your waist, pulling you backwards towards someone’s chest.

You react completely on instinct, teleporting out of their hold and reappearing on the other side of the room, bow ready with an ichor arrow aimed directly at the assailant. It is only when the meager light of the nearby lantern reflects off their beskar helmet do you realize who you’re facing.

Immediately you lower and dismiss your weapon before pressing a hand over your chest where your heart is fluttering like a trapped bird. “I’m so sorry, Din,” you tell him, limbs trembling as it sinks in just how close you were to shooting him. “Maker, you scared me and—and I thought I—well, I don’t know what I was thinking, just that I had to—”

In between blinks he appears in front of you, yanking his helmet off with such ferocity your words catch in your throat. You have only the slightest of seconds to glimpse the arousal darkening his brown eyes before he slips a hand behind your neck and crashes your lips together.

He kisses you as if you’re gravity and he’ll float away if he dares to spare a moment to breathe, sending a current of warmth surging through your body. You thought the mere touch of his hand had been life-altering, but it is a mere candle compared to the wildfire his lips spark. Your eyes fall shut as you kiss back with an equal amount of fervency, bringing him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, grinning at the groan the action spurs from deep within his chest.

There is the heavy thud of his helmet striking the ground before he’s wrapping his hand around your waist, slotting a thigh between your legs to ensure every inch of your bodies are touching. Your cheeks rub against the scratchiness of his facial scruff, an invigorating burn you think you could easily become addicted to.

An embarrassingly high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he pulls away a minute later. He’s never looked more attractive, mouth swollen and hair disarrayed from your roaming fingers. His hands cup your face, and it occurs to you as he swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones he isn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding slightly hoarser than usual and out of breath. His gaze roams your face, like he’s trying to re-familiarize himself with your features after the time spent apart. “Especially with your bow. When you pointed that arrow at me, there was this...fierceness in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Fuck, angel, you looked so gorgeous.”

“Seriously?” you say, raising an incredulous eyebrow, because of-kriffing-course he’d be the one being in the whole universe who is turned on by a weapon being pointed at him.

“Seriously.” He leans in, forehead pressing against yours, noses brushing. It’s hard to focus when he’s this close, like you’ve again entered that separate realm where it’s just you and him.

“Din, look,” you whisper, fighting the magnetic pull insisting you kiss him again long enough to show him your marked hand. “It’s real. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The smile that stretches across his face when he sees it is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Angel,” he says, tilting your head so the words are spoken right against your lips. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those words ever since I gave you my name.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[amythedvdhoarder]

Three

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings: Swearing, little bit of drinking, quite angsty and fluffy

A/N: (gif not mine) So this is my incredibly late entry to celebrate  @finleyjayne reaching 100 followers. Congrats hun you deserve it. So I picked the prompt ‘Feeling blue’ with Stucky. This is not beta read so I apologise now for any mistakes. 

xxx

Bucky let out a heavy sigh as he rolled over to face Steve in bed. Another night filled with restless sleep, the extra body in the bed missing making it impossible to sleep easily.

“What’s up? Steve grumbled still half asleep.

“You know what,” Bucky replied wistfully.

Steve stretches out lazily before turning to face Bucky and smiling sadly. “We had to let her go, give her a chance at a normal life. She couldn’t have that with is Buck.”

“Why can’t she have a normal life with us Steve? Everyone accepts us? We could have settled down, got married, had a few kids. No one would have questioned it.” Bucky knew the tiredness was stopping him from keeping a lid on his emotions.

“You know that’s not true,” Steve reached for Bucky’s hand and pulled it to his lips briefly, “nobody outside of the team knew about the three of us. It wasn’t fair on her, you agreed at the time too. We let her go before it got too far and we couldn’t. We had 6 happy months together, let’s just remember that.” Steve tugged on Bucky’s arm, encouraging him to come closer. Bucky shuffled over and rested his head against Steve’s chest.

“I know, I just miss her. I love her so fucking much it hurts.” Steve closed his eyes as he felt that familiar stab of pain that Bucky was talking about. Bucky was everything to Steve, they had been through so much together. But you. You were like the missing piece of their jigsaw puzzle they hadn’t even realised was incomplete. You fitted them perfectly, after everything they had been through they were happier than they had ever been but they noticed you becoming more distant, spending nights back at your own place, then suddenly it was all over.

xxx

You missed Steve and Bucky like hell. They had woven their way into your life and now that they weren’t in it, you felt lost. The first time you met them they had come into the coffee shop you were working in. Bucky’s fingers had grazed over yours as you handed him his takeout cup and Steve’s eyes met yours making your breath catch. You witnessed the pair of them having a quiet conversation and them both sitting down at a table despite ordering coffee to go. They spent the rest of the afternoon at the coffee shop, chatting away, their eyes searching you out and finding you already smiling at them warmly. When you were finally closing up they asked you to join them for a few minutes.

They explained to you that they were a couple but were interested in spending time with you. Surprisingly you weren’t put off by the idea but in fact excited, so you accepted their dinner invitation. Two weeks later you found yourself in their bed and after that a permanent feature in their lives. You spent most nights with them at the tower. On your days off you would explore New York together, looking like a couple and their friend just having a day out. Not that it bothered you. You understood why Steve was never affectionate with you outside of the tower, he kept his distance. He had only just started to feel comfortable being out with Bucky in public. Bucky was different though, he had spent too much of his life not being himself to hide any longer. He would tease you with small lingering touches, not so innocent looks whilst nobody was watching and whispering naughty thoughts in your ears as you peered into shop windows.

Everything had been going smoothly until Steve had gone on a mission that lasted longer than expected. Before that point you hadn’t slept with either of them without the other being there or joining in. But during this week Bucky felt himself getting more and more stressed and in need of release so he called Steve and asked if it would be ok for you and him to sleep together. Steve agreed at the time but when he got back from his mission to find you and Bucky curled up with each other on the sofa his face told a different story. Of course, you instantly panicked believing you were driving a wedge between them which was the last thing you wanted to do. After you voiced you concerns to Bucky he told you that you were being daft but Steve’s demeanour changed around you.

From that point you began to distance yourself from the both, you made excuses to avoid spending time with even though it made you miserable. In that short 6 months you had fallen insurmountably in love with them but realised it had to end. Bucky and Steve were meant for each other, you cared about them too much to come between them. And after one short, teary discussion between the three of you it was over. You made your excuses about needing the chance to have a normal life where you could be open about your relationships, have some proper stability. It was all lies of course, something to avoid having to tell them the truth and potentially cause them more pain. Neither of them fought or argued with you, they looked a little ashamed but ultimately let you go.

Truth be told you missed all of the people from the avenger’s tower; Sam and Nat had become good friends of yours. They had tried to contact you after you left but you ghosted them, unable to have any sort of connection to anyone linked to Bucky and Steve. Your life seemed quieter, mundane and as you cleaned the coffee machine up for closing time you didn’t even notice when a new customer came in.

“Y/N?” the soft voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” you said moving towards the counter. “You want anything making?”

“Only if you’ll join me,” he smiled.

“I can’t. I need to close up and clean.” You could tell by the way his eyebrows raised that he wasn’t going to fall for your attempt to get rid of him.

“How about this. You lock up and I’ll help you tidy up. It’ll give us a chance to talk, I miss talking to someone who isn’t over 100 or a trained assassin.” Sam knew he had won when you burst out laughing.

“Fine, but only because I don’t want to clean up this place on my own,” you stuck your tongue out at him as you walked over to the door, clicked the lock shut and turned over the sign indicating you were now closed.  

You and Sam chatted away for the next 30 minutes talking about this and that, both delaying the inevitable topic of the two super soldiers. You handed Sam his payment of a cappuccino and you sat down in an armchair opposite him, nursing your cup of tea.

“So, you gonna ask me how they are?” Sam asks an amused tone to his voice.

“Sam, I-“ he shakes his head at you.

“I’m gonna tell you anyway. Y/N they’re not good, they really miss you even if they won’t admit it to us. Bucky is miserable, he barely laughs, makes a joke. Hell, he has even stopped teasing me. For some reason he only wears this one red t-shirt all the time, he is refusing to wash it. Like it actually smells now. And Steve. Steve is worst. His mood swings would put an adolescent teenager to shame. One minute he is snapping at everyone, breaking open punch bags and the next he weirdly calm and this look of despair just washes over him.” Sam’s eyes fixed on your face.

His words had clearly had an impact, making him feel instantly guilty. Your bottom lip wobbling, eyes full of tears threatening to spill over. He jumped up out of his seat and wrapped a comforting arm around you. At this the damn broke and you descended into sobs.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N,” Sam crooned softly, taking the hot tea out of your hand and placing it on the table. “Take a couple of deep breaths for me,” he instructed. Once you had finally had your breathing back under control and wiped away your tears, he finally released you and sat back down opposite you.

“I’m sorry Sam,” your voice croaky and raw from the crying. “I just miss them, I don’t feel like myself anymore. It’s like I’m hollow, does that sound crazy?”

“No, it doesn’t Y/N, I felt the same way when Riley died. The difference is they didn’t die, you could have them back in your life if that’s what you want?” he said solemnly.

“I would go back to them in a heartbeat Sam, but I just don’t think that’s what they both want,” you twisted the ring around your index finger.

“Did you not hear what I told you earlier? They’re lost without you,” Sam was thoroughly confused. His plan had been to try and talk you around to help you realise what a big mistake the three of you had made.  Nat was having a similar conversation with Steve and Bucky right now, informing them what she had found out by following you around for the last week or so since you’d left. But now Sam had a feeling that there was a bigger issue at hand.

“I heard you but they’ll learn to live without me. They love each other completely, I don’t think there is room for me in all of that.” It was the first time you had admitted the truth aloud, it stung but it felt good to have finally got the big weight off your shoulders.

“That’s the biggest pile of bullshit I have ever heard,” Sam scoffed. Your head shot up immediately, your mouth open in shock. “You can’t seriously believe that?”

You were quiet for a minute, not sure how to respond. “You don’t know them like I do,” you replied quietly.

“You’re right, in some ways I know them better. I knew them before you, they were happy but it was nowhere near what they were like when you were with them,” he folded his arms content that he had won.

“See that’s where your wrong Sam. You remember that mission that Steve went on, every little thing that could go wrong did. Well when he got home something was different, he was more guarded around me. I think it was because me and Bucky got closer whilst he was away, he didn’t want me anymore. I was getting in the way,” you reasoned.

“Y/N, I was on that mission with him. We went through absolute hell and back. I was distant from everyone for a while. Did you know he nearly died?” he looked at the way your eyes widened to find the answer to that question. “So, no then. Well he did and do you know what he said to me?” You shook your head. “I’m quoting here. ‘Tell them both I love them. Tell Bucky to look after our girl’. If you were really getting in the way, why would he say that?”

You sighed. “I don’t know. But he didn’t stop me from leaving.”

“Did you tell them the real reason why you were leaving?” Sam asked already knowing the answer.

You shook your head.

“And people call me an idiot?” he scoffed.  “Of course they let you go if that’s what they thought you wanted. You need to talk to them or at least see them and find out the truth.”

You picked up your tea and took a long gulp to avoid responding to Sam’s suggestion.

“Well whatever you decide you’re going to have to see them this weekend anyway?” he said smugly making you choke and cough as the now lukewarm liquid went down the wrong way.

“Sam what the fuck?” you managed to get out in between spluttering coughs.

“It’s my birthday party on Saturday, you promised you’d come ages ago.” He folded his arms at grinned.

“That was before,’ you stammered. “Besides, I’ve already said I’ll work another shift.”

“Liar,” he said getting to his feet. “Nat will come to yours and pick you up around 7. Think about what I’ve said Y/N. They really do miss you.”

You stood up followed him as he walked to the door. “Ok I’ll think about it. Don’t think I have much choice about Saturday, do I?”

Sam wrapped you up in a bear hug. “Nope, absolutely none.”

After you had locked up after Sam you sat back down and tried to process everything. Sam’s words played over in your head. There was no doubt that Bucky was missing you; he was wearing the shirt of his that you had slept in the last night you spent with them. It was Steve you were more sceptical about. If what Sam had really said was true then maybe Steve did care for you more than he let on. Perhaps some part of him doubted your affection and loyalty to them. There was no way to be sure except to see them. You just didn’t know if you were ready for that.

xxx

Nat showed up a whole two hours early with an array of outfits for you to pick from. She wouldn’t let you get something old and familiar out of your closet, she was determined to get you dressed up and into the party spirit. She only succeeded at one of those and by the time you both pulled up to the tower you were a complete bag of nerves.

“Will you quit fidgeting, you’re making me nervous,” Nat scolded you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled before pulling up the front of your dress. “Why a sleeveless dress Nat? They are so impractical.”

“Well -” she paused to twist the thin satin material at your hip, repositioning the perilously high thigh split, “- that may be true but I can guarantee one thing, those boys will certainly realise what they have been missing.”

You frowned at her and gave one final look over your appearance in the elevator mirror before the door pinged open into the loud and bustling party. She took your hand and led you to the bar where you were greeted by Sam who promptly handed you a drink. You knocked back the amber liquid quickly in an attempt to sooth your nerves, before anxiously scanning around the room for any sign of the two men you both longed and dreaded to see.

“Relax Y/N, they’re not here yet,” Sam leaned over and whispered in your ear. He gave you a small reassuring smile which mixed with warmth the alcohol was providing finally made you relax a little. Nat and Sam caught you up on everything that happened and the latest avenger’s gossip.

“Hey kid, we missed you. How’ve you been?” Tony walked up to you, his purple tinted glasses nearly falling of his nose as he threw his arms out to embrace you.

“Ok thanks,” you said quickly. “Great party as always Tones.”

“Well we have Mrs Stark to thank for that.” He turned to face Sam. “They’re gonna short-circuit when they find out she’s here,” Tony uttered, half amused before walking over to greet some other guests.

You rounded on Sam. “You didn’t tell them,” your voice low as you tried to control your emotions.

“Not exactly,” he shrugged. “Well guess we’re going to find out any second now,” he smirked at the entrance over your shoulder.

xxx

Bucky looked around the room, wishing at that moment that he could be anywhere else. He was walking towards the bar when he realised Steve was no longer walking next to him.

“Stevie?” he turned around searching for Steve and spotted him stood stock still, his eyes fixed on something across the room. Bucky walked back towards him and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Steve?” he said starting to get a little worried, he looked like he had seen a ghost. Bucky followed his line of sight and his eyes met yours across the crowded room. His breath caught in his throat and he could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. He had thought of this moment every day since you had left and now that it was here he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Is she really here Buck,” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Bucky blinked and turned to Steve. “I think so. Steve, we have to …”

“I know” Steve said as he took Bucky’s hand and squeezed it.

When the men turned back around you had disappeared from sight. You saw them frantically searching for you but you had managed to tuck yourself behind a group of shield agents. At the sight of them part of you wanted to run to them and throw your arms around them and never let them go but there was still doubts niggling away in your mind. One thing was for certain, Sam was right. Bucky did look sad and Steve. Well Steve was the one you hadn’t ever been able to get a read on before and still couldn’t now.  

“Y/N seriously, hiding from them?” Nat shook her head at you.

“Well you found me so I’m clearly not hiding am I,” you sassed.

“You certainly won’t be in a minute” she smiled deviously before standing on her tip toes and waving at the two super soldiers.

“I fucking hate you Nat,” you hissed.

“No you don’t. If you’re still planning on hiding I would move now, they’re on their way.” You stuck your middle finger up at her and then scarpered. Sure, you were going to have to face them at some point tonight but you planned on having at least another couple of drinks before that.

Mid-way through your first vodka and coke a tall red-headed man approached you and Bruce as you were chatting at the bar.

“Hi, I was wondering if you wanted a dance. Seems a shame to be hiding that dress over here at the bar,” Bruce bit back a laugh as did you at the corny line but none the less you agreed.

You let the man who introduced himself as Tom, take your hand and lead you to the dancefloor. Thankfully the song was slow so you didn’t have to worry about your dress slipping down. Tom placed his hands lightly on your waist as you held onto his shoulders, gently swaying to the music.

Midway through the song he leaned over and whispered quietly in your ear. “Do you have any idea why the winter soldier looks like he wants to kill me?”

Your grip on his shoulders tightened. “Bucky,” you corrected. “No, I have no idea,” the tone of your voice sharp. As you spun around your eyes landed on Bucky who was gripping onto the glass tumbler in his hand so tightly you were surprised it hadn’t smashed. It was often that you saw this side of him but it sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes sought out Steve who you assumed would be with Bucky but you couldn’t find him.

“Mind if I cut in?” a familiar voice spoke softly whilst still managing to carry an air of absolute authority.  

Tom stood still and turned to look up at the blonde man. “Sure thing Sir,” he stuttered, “thanks Y/N,” and with that Tom backed away and nearly ran from the dancefloor.

“That was mean,” your hands fell to your hips as you scowled at Steve. “Plus, do I not get a say in this?” His blue eyes flashed with panic briefly but then that classic Steve Rogers look of determination reappeared.

“So, what do you want Y/N?” you could sense the double meaning behind his question. “Because I know what I want Y/N,” he continued, his blue eyes boring into yours taking a step closer.

“Steve I…” you closed your eyes and bit down on your bottom lip trying to find the words you wanted to say. A calloused hand cupped your jaw and you opened your eyes as Steve traced the tender flesh of your lower lip. The sound of the party disappeared and all that remained in that moment was you and Steve. Instinctively you pressed your hand on top of Steve’s and inched yourself closer to him.

“I wish this were simpler Steve but it’s not,” you hadn’t even realised you were crying until Steve removed his hand and quickly wiped away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“This was never going to be simple Y/N. But all I know is that I love you. These last few weeks have bit a shit show. I didn’t say it enough before but if you’ll have me then I will spend every day showing you exactly how much.”

“What about Bucky?” you asked quietly.

“What about me doll?” Bucky had walked up to the pair of you, a lop-sided grin on his face.

“You two are meant to be together. I don’t want to get in the way of that,” you looked from Bucky’s face to Steve’s.  

“You can’t seriously think that Y/N,” Steve said moving forward to try and get closer but you took a step back.

“I know that when you came back from that mission everything felt different,” your voice cracked as you tried to make Steve understand.

Steve’s face fell at your words. “I was scared Y/N. I realised on that mission how important you were. How much we needed you. When I saw you when I got back with Buck, I realised that you deserved so much more than someone who might not come home one day. You’re worth more than that. I was scared you were going to figure it out and leave. So, when you started pulling away I let you because I thought that was what you wanted, what would make you happy. Even if it meant we weren’t,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

“And you,” you rounded on Bucky, “did you think the same thing?”

“Y/N you didn’t seem happy and I thought we were to blame; doesn’t that sound familiar?” he was right of course. “All I know is it sounds as if you have been as miserable as we have. Doll, we’re not us without you. We’re a team. You, me and Stevie. We’re all yours if you’ll have us?” he shrugged.

“Maybe you need us to convince you?” Steve closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours with a softness you hadn’t expected. You felt yourself melt against him as his hands found the nape of your neck and held you to him, your lips moving against his as you became reacquainted.

When he finally managed to tear himself away from the sweet taste of your lips, his cheeks were flushed and his ragged breath matched your own.

“My turn,” Bucky stepped over, his hand moving to the back of your head as he crashed his lips to yours. The intensity of the kiss had both of you moaning against each other’s mouths. You wrapped your arms around him, not wanting to let go but you had to eventually.

You stood breathless looking between the two super soldiers who owned your heart, your mind made up.

“Yes,” you smiled.

Bucky was grinning like a kid of Christmas morning but Steve didn’t allow himself to celebrate to soon. “You sure about this Y/N because we won’t ever let you go again,” he said.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” and you meant it. You couldn’t imagine a version of your life without Bucky and Steve in it. “Now get over here,” you giggled at the look of pure joy on Steve’s face.

Steve was on you in a second, picking you up off your feet and pressing kisses all over your face. Bucky came up to the pair of you and took you out of Steve’s arms to repeat the whole process all over again before leaning over to give Steve a quick kiss.

Bucky finally slid you down his body back onto the floor and Steve cupped your cheek and was about to lean down to kiss you again until Sam interrupted.

“Um guys, as much as I am enjoying the reunion maybe you wanna, you know, take this somewhere a little less...” Sam waved his arm around at the crowd of people around you.

You hid yourself in embarrassment behind Bucky’s shoulder. “Sorry” your voice muffled by Bucky’s suit jacket, but you knew it was loud enough for them to both hear it.

Steve laced his fingers with yours and pulled you to face him. “What are you sorry for doll,” he stroked the side of your cheek with the back of his finger.

“I know you didn’t want people to know about us,” you looked down at the floor.

“I got nothing to hide doll. I love both of you and that’s all that matters,” he squeezed your hand and turned to Bucky. “Let’s get outta here.”

“Been waiting all night for you to say that Punk,” Bucky grinned.

He took your other hand and lead you and Steve out of the party. None of you caring what people may have been saying about the three of you, only caring about the fact that you were all together again, just how it was meant to be.

Taglist is open. Let me know if you want in or out 😊 (it is quite possible I missed someone 😬 just dm me)

@stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @rogueheretic555 @rebekahdawkins @chrissquares @pumpkin-and-pine, @hereforbuckyandsteve, @drakelover78, @baddie-barnes   @its-izzys @thehumanistsdiary​

[cienie-isengardu]

Not only do I not regret asking you to "RELEASE THE RAMBLES!", I'm sending you requests for more. Below is a list of questions that I asked @bihansthot , and enjoyed their answers, but because you are so thorough, and answer in such depth, I'm re-asking them to you.

Brace yourself, it's a list. I didnt have time to sort thru them, I just copied and pasted, so if any are questions you already answered before, please feel free to include the links.

"LET US BEGIN!"

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

In the spirit of potential future writing,  I'm trying to find a building that  would make a good substitution for Lin Kuei temple.

I've tried looking up ancient Chinese military barracks/forts, and have found some stuff,  but is all exterior.  Anyone know of any locations (or several I can cobble together) that would make good inspiration fodder?

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

So, uhm, religion? What's the Lin Kuei's take on that one? I know they are aware of Gods, they team up with/ encounter Raiden all the time,  and have literally worked for/against Shinook, so I know they recognize higher powers... but I  guess the question is,  do they care?

Do they have a religion,  or spiritual practice that resembles religion? Or do they have a more practical approach "gods exist,  but we just consider them very strong people"?

Which segues into... do they recognize and participate in holidays, or things like birthdays? Or are all their celebrations work related (I.E. successful missions or levels of combat mastery)?

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

Food.  What foods do they normally eat? What foods do they like?  What foods don't they like? What foods do they absolutely love so much they'll stop what they're doing to get it?

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

If you had to match the Lin Kuei with a dynasty,  what one would it be? (I know the 2021 movie has the opening in the Ming dynasty, so the Lin Kuei is at least that old,  but given that movie Bi Han hasn't aged in 400 years, and was taken is a child,  its probably much older) (and also know the game probably cherry picked random Chinese things it liked).

What do you think the Lin Kuei's view on artistic culture (probably not the right word) is? I know they are heavily militaristic,  but in the game,  Kuai Liang offers Hanzo tea and he properly prepares it the Japanese way, that says they have something of an education other than just related to fighting?

Lastly,  in the movie,  everything Bi Han does is "for the Lin Kuei", but the Lin Kuei is on Earth (assumedly),  and he is working for a guy who wants to enslave Earth, so what do you think the deal is?

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

Question about the Cryomancers. I know the game lore says that they are supposed to be rare, but I also know that the Lin Kuei have had at least 5 (grandpa, papa, older, and younger Sub Zero,  and Frost). 4 of which are part of 3 generations that inherited it even with mixed blood (I'm assuming Mama Sub Zero wasn't Cryomancer since they left her alone).

That's a lot of generations in a row for a rare trait... So do you think the Cryomancers as a group have figured out they're being hunted and have chosen to live in hiding?

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

Lin Kuei society question? I like writing so I also like world building and I think about these things.

Is Lin Kuei society ever covered? I know there is a Grandmaster, a handful master assassins (Sub Zero's, Sektor, Cyrax, etc) and the  movies always have a bunch canon fodder lesser assassins.

And they live in the very isolated Lin Kuei Palace/Temple in Arktika (or wherever it used to be)

But is Lin Kuei (we'll call it "village") ever covered?   Do they have willing servants, kidnapped slaves, or a mix of both? Are there women (non fighter women,  I know there's Frost) or do they employ strictly male help? If there are women, what's their role, and are there children born there? What about Elderly? What about resources,  is everything (from food, clothes, weapons, and the raw materials to create them) grown or manufactured on sight by skilled laborers or do they import/interact with the outside world? How vicious or civil is this society, could you be killed for looking at Sektor wrong or do they value your services to a degree? What's the degree? This is obviously a combat culture,  but is everyone expected to know martial arts of some variety, is it optional, or do they prohibit it among the servants/slaves? How strict are they on things like clothing, food, alcohol,  drugs, "luxuries", or pleasures? Money? If they interact with the world do they recognize and use $$ currency, commodity currency, or a mixture? Internally are the Lin Kuei payed or just provided for? What about illness or injury,  if you're not a master and it a serious injury/illness are you taken care of or do they just give you a quick death?

Etc. That's all the questions I can think of,  but please feel free to answer questions I didn't ask,  if you think of anything else.

Thank you for this wonderful list to talk about! I’m gonna split the answer into smaller parts, for better focusing on each aspect but also so I don’t feel bad for keeping you waiting for ages, lol. For now let’s focus on asks about the religion!

So good questions! I do think they have some spiritual practice(s) because in martial arts the state of a mind is as important as the physical body and religion is one of many ways to shape someone’s mindset from a young age. I do, however, think that Lin Kuei does not worship the gods. They are aware that the gods exist (with Raiden as the thorn in the side) and may even respect their supernatural powers and battle skills but it never has stopped Lin Kuei from desecrating holy places, murdering people and stealing stuff for the best price. So, it seems to me that whatever religion the members of the clan follow, by nature it is rooted in nontheism.

Of course, there is also a chance that Lin Kuei worships some forgotten deity or deities (as a remnant of their ancient connections with Outworld / realms conquered and destroyed by Shao Kahn?) or may even practice ancestor worship which seems like a good way to uphold a widely understood tradition that plays an important role in the discussed community.

The closest thing to religious practice was seen in Mortal Kombat X, when Sub-Zero and his warriors seemed to pray together before statue of god / deity / ancestor / legendary warrior / personalized thing they value the most (sadly, my knowledge about Asian religious practices or faiths is very limited so I don’t have idea if the statue is supposed to represent any real god/religious symbol).

At the same time, it could be just a bluff since Grandmaster was aware of Cage’s team infiltrating the Lin Kuei territory and used this moment to lure them into a trap. Additionally, Mortal Kombat X comics presented once Kuai Liang sitting before the same statue albeit in a completely different (devoid of reverence?) position.

Of course, if we take into account Mortal Kombat Armageddon, the game states that Lin Kuei Temple placed in Arctika was actually once the Temple of Delia (the great sorceress & wife of god Argus) that at some point get abandoned and re-used by Sub-Zero’s clan.

(In the background, we can see a statue of Delia that Lin Kuei does not worship but did not remove for whatever reason. Mixing both old and new games, we can only wonder if MKX!statue is also the remnant of someone else's faith/religion?)

Beside that, Kuai Liang was pretty vocal about Lin Kuei not worshipping the Elder Gods, what was seen in MK11’s intro dialogue with Cetrion

Sub-Zero: The Lin Kuei do not worship the Elder Gods.

Cetrion: We seek gratitude, not worship.

Sub-Zero: I see no distinction.

and personally did not have any reason to pray to the goddess:

Sub-Zero: Why should I pray to you?

Cetrion: Why does a bird flap its wings?

Sub-Zero: I asked a simple question.

In all fairness, in MK11 Kuai Liang seems the most passive-aggressive toward the Elder God while Frost is focused on her ambitions and Noob!Bi-Han just wants to be left alone when bothered by Cetrion. Similar thing happens toward Raiden. Despite gratitude for saving him, Kuai Liang does not spare the god criticism (can’t serve both Elder Gods and Earthrealm, isn’t fit for his role of protector) and in MKX outright says he does not fear divine beings:

Raiden: Sub-Zero...

Sub-Zero: I fear no gods, Raiden.

Raiden': That's why you shall lose.

Surprisingly, Kuai Liang’s interaction with MK11!Fujin sounds less accusing than with Raiden and Cetrion and it is connected closely to their ties with Bi-Han. And maybe Kuai Liang did seek in the past Fujin and other elements to make a peace with them, like he planned to do so in Mortal Kombat 4 Limited comics?

"I came here to make peace with the gods of the elements that you fought [...]"

Anyway, the accusingly behaviour toward Raiden and Cetrion could be just Kuai Liang’s personal dislike for gods and serious authority issues, which makes sense considering how much he suffered because of their meddling and conflicts.

But honestly?

The available examples of Lin Kuei attitude toward gods, demigods and supernatural beings suggest how little the warriors - especially cryomancers - care for them.

Like, we have Bi-Han in Mythologies, who asked Quan Chi about details of mission:

Sub-Zero: If it's so precious, why don't you get it yourself?

Quan Chi: I cannot enter the temple until the four elements within its walls have been defeated. And I am not on the best of terms with the gods of your realm... especially your god of thunder.

Sub-Zero: Tell me about these elements.

Quan Chi outright said he and earthrealm gods weren’t friends and Bi-Han, reading between the lines, could get the idea that he may end on bad terms with Thunder God. Yet he was interested only in elements (lesser gods than protector of realm?) guarding the temple.

Then Bi-Han beat down four demigods and met a displeased Raiden after Quan Chi got the Shinnok Amulet. His reaction? No fear, like meeting an angry god was a normal occurrence.

Rayden: Do you realize what you've done??

Sub-Zero: I was just earning my living.

Rayden: Your clan's ignorance and greed will cost this entire realm. You must now set things straight.

Sub-Zero: Quan Chi could simply be a lunatic sorcerer. I've never heard of an elder god named Shinnok or of a place called the Netherrealm.

Rayden: Well, you'd better start believing in both, because you're going to the Netherrealm and you're going to bring the amulet back. We must act quickly. I have no dominion in the Netherrealm... You are reality's only hope.

Sub-Zero: I'll do it, Thunder God... but only because I have no choice.

And once he came back from Netherrealm, where he was fixing what he messed up in the first place on Raiden’s order, his abrasive attitude did not change much:

Sub-Zero: Here... the amulet.

Rayden: Impressive, Sub-Zero. Perhaps you will reconcile your reckless past after all.

Sub-Zero: That's it? Not even a thank you?

Of course, to some degree Raiden’s words did have an impact on Bi-Han but even the god’s warning about his soul tainted with evil did not stop him from coming back to Lin Kuei. Bi-Han’s attitude and/or approach to gods seems to change somehow once he was reborn as Noob, but that is a different matter for different times.

Anyway, Mythologies!Bi-Han and MK11!Noob act less aggressive toward gods than Kuai Liang. But then we have Sub-Zero from from the MK novel by Jeff Rovin, who not only is not afraid of gods but outright insult them:

“Wait! Be warned, Shang Tsung. He is cursed!”

“Cursed? By whom?”

Ruthay wailed, “By the immortal Yu.”

Shang Tsung felt cold spiders crawl up his spine. “The demigod Yu?”

“Yes… he who is said to dwell in the underground caverns of Horse Ear Mountain… which is sacred to the goddess Kuan Lin. He who protects the canals… and the tunnels… and looks after all who use them, human and animal.”

“What did our brash friend do to Yu?”

“He… killed a man,” said Ruthay.

“What man?”

“A toll-taker… one who had given up a life of crime… one who had been a partner of the man… you… seek.”

“And how did that crime come to the attention of the spirit of Yu?” Shang Tsung asked.

“The man was killed… slowly disemboweled with a sword… while accomplices forced his wife and his son to look on! After his murder… the man’s remains… were dumped into a canal!”

Shang Tsung raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? I was expecting something truly terrible!”

“It was!” Ruthay shrieked. “When he disposed of the body… in that way … he profaned one of the sacred waterways… of Yu!”

Shang Tsung smiled now. “Then he is definitely the man I want,” he said. “Anyone who is impudent enough to insult a demigod won’t be afraid to attack a member of the White Lotus Society, or the gods who watch after them. I will send Hamachi, Ruthay. When he nears his goal, see through his eyes and guide him!”

Book!Sub-Zero was impudent enough to insult a demigod which is why he was one of Shang Tsung’s favorites. And to be clear - book!Sub-Zero did not regret insulting the demigod at all. Even more! He found humor in it!:

He dwelt in a cave two hundred feet up the face of a cliff by the sea. The mouth of his home was barely wide enough to accommodate a slender adult, and was accessible only by climbing the sheer wall of rock, a feat that was impossible for most adults and daunting even to the few arachnids and marsupials that tried it.

Maybe some of them were even sent by Yu, he thought with a smirk, little assassins who would chastise me for having spilled blood in his precious canal.

The less abrasive attitude toward gods was shown by Cyrax, who talked a bit with Raiden over Bi-Han’s remains. He wasn’t outright antagonistic but wasn’t overall respectful either. He talked with Thunder God like he would talk with any other human being that wasn’t actually Scorpion. Frankly, from the named Lin Kuei only MK9!Smoke actually addressed Raiden in respectful manner, with proper bow and the name of lord

albeit did he do so because he respects the divine beings or just out of gratitude for saving him, hard to tell for sure.

So yeah, it seems like no matter what kind of timeline or age or medium of the story, Lin Kuei does not fear gods nor pray to them. And the clan has a long history of dealing with Raiden, so the Lin Kuei had first-hand experiences with supernatural beings. Somehow, cryomancers are the most impudent warriors when it comes to dealing with or criticizing the gods.

Interestingly, as much as Lin Kuei warriors don’t care for gods, most of the known to us named characters believe to have - and to care - for their own souls. Sektor and MK11!Frost embraced the Cyber Lin Kuei idea but Kuai Liang, Cyrax and Smoke were opposed to C.I. project out for concern for their souls among other things. Even Bi-Han, to some degree became concerned about his soul after trip to Netherrealm.

Believing in souls is usually a sign of belief in the afterlife, albeit after all of them went through (the change into cyborgs, death and change into Revenants) this is less a matter of faith (religion) and more first-hand experiences. And let's not forget that regularly dealing over the centuries with Shang Tsung who steals people's souls on a daily basis makes it really hard to not believe spirits are real.

Also, an interesting matter of Lin Kuei practices that could have a religious/spiritual ground and/or be an example of ancestor worship is the clan’s funeral rites. I don’t think we actually saw any Lin Kuei to bury their own (especially after warrior’s failure?) and for sure MK9!Cyrax and Sektor did not bother to take care of Bi-Han’s remains. However the sources provide examples of Lin Kuei keeping corpses, most likely of their own leaders or warriors.

And so, we could see human remains:

put in two coffins on each side of statue

hidden / kept in a block of ice(?) in chamber of Fallen Lin Kuei in which Frost’s frozen body was also laid, but on the altar

Cyrax’s cyber body was kept and guarded by Sub-Zero (and this is like the only thing that Kuai Liang and Cyber Sektor so far agreed on)

and even Cyber Sektor’s remains, even if just for pragmatic reasons, are kept in what seems to be respectful manner:

It could be just Kuai Liang’s good nature to honor fallen of his clan (I’m still not sure if Lin Kuei Palace is the new place for Sub-Zero’s clan or the ancient hideout) but even in MK Conquest TV series, after Grandmaster was killed by then-currently-Sub-Zero, there was the farewell ceremony with clothes on display (cause there was not much left of body after freezing and shattering) while new leader gave the speech promising to punish the guilty.

Which makes me think that Lin Kuei did honor their fallen warriors (especially those exceptional, deserving). Such custom and apparently common belief in soul could also support the ancestor worship - both as some ancient, mythical ancestor(s) connecting warriors into one clan (family) and tradition to follow in the footsteps of forefathers (Bi-Han taking place of his father [old timeline] or grandfather [current timeline] or Kuai Liang taking Bi-Han’s place as Sub-Zero).

My general conclusion about Lin Kuei is that its members believe in souls, have respect and use of spiritual matters (meditation?) and maybe ancestor worship. Whatever the religious / spiritual practices they have over the centuries, it is not something they will share, as the Lin Kuei by nature are secretive people who keep personal things mostly for themselves. The people that joined the clan (Cyrax and Smoke) maybe kept their old, eventual religious beliefs but overall, Lin Kuei warriors did not fear, care for nor pray to gods. They may respect god (Raiden, Fujin) as a person but not because of their divine nature. And even that would not stop them from criticizing said god. Which is pretty much how Kuai Liang and Raiden’s relationship looks like. Grandmaster is grateful to Thunder God for saving him but he won’t blindly follow his authority.

(Kuai Liang has serious authority issues, hasn't he?)

As for holidays, I can’t really see Lin Kuei to follow any specific religious (theistic) special day cause they don’t care much for gods in the first place. Unless they worked undercover and needed to act as normal human beings, religious holidays would mean nothing to them. The warriors may however celebrate their mission success, combat mastery or promotion between themselves or in secret, I think. Like, Lin Kuei did forbid friendship because it was considered warrior’s flaw yet we know some members either were blood-related (Kuai Liang, Bi-Han, previous Sub-Zero - father or grandfather, depending on which timeline is correct) or considered each other a family (Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada) and most named characters worked in duos so they have both opportunity and knowledge about each other to celebrate important matters. If they managed to remember anything from previous life, that is. Because from ancient to at least Great Kung Lao’s times most(?) adepts were kidnapped from biological families at a really young age (something around 6 years old). And Mythologies: Sub-Zero takes that even further:

Its warriors are chosen at birth to be raised apart from the workings of day to day civilization and are stripped of their former lives. Only the clan knows their existence. Each of them posses certain skills and abilities that set them apart from normal men. These abilities are passed on from generation to generation and honed throughout the experiences of life.

So, celebrating birthdays doesn’t sound like happening much, unless those with family around could allow themselves such luxury. The clan may however celebrate the day of becoming a fully trained and sworn warrior? Or the fallen warriors? Who knows.

Also, something worth thinking about: in Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series, when the Grandmaster presented newly appointed Sub-Zero to the rest of the clan, he “celebrated” the cryomancer's first official performance as the execution of two men who failed their mission. So, yeah, celebration of something special in (old) Lin Kuei does not necessarily mean anything nice.

(The next part of answer most likely will be focused either on food or architecture / origin of Lin Kuei. Let's hope I will get it written sooner than later)

<><> EDIT <><>

RELIGION <> ORIGINS / ARCHITECTURE <> FOOD <> FOR THE LIN KUEI <> ART <> CRYOMANCERS <> LIN KUEI SOCIETY <> MONEY & MATERIAL GOODS

[casualreader1234]

Reunion

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

An: Part two of the random story idea I had. I think I'm just going to keep the same summary each time because I'm too bad at writing them. I tried to make this gender-neutral, and I don't think I wrote anything that would imply a particular sex, but let me know.

Summary: What if you weren't the hero of the story? What if you were the villain meant to burn the world down?

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Morally gray protagonist, violence

Word Count: 2k

[Part 1], [Part 2]

This gif is so funny to me.

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

When you had first arrived in the U.S, you had been intrigued by tales of the infamous Black Widow, a former Russian assassin turned good, that was enough to catch anyone's attention. To satisfy your curiosity, you had tracked her down, wanting to see her for yourself. Watching her from afar, you understood why she was considered one of the best in her field: her movements always flowed into the next like she was performing a dance.

She easily disposed of her targets, strapping her weapons back onto herself. Seeing the completion of her job, you left the ledge of the building you had been standing of before she could see you. Slipping into the shadow, you had to admit that your interests had been piqued by the assassin.

///

You had always known that your girlfriend had been hiding secrets, but this one was far more exciting than you had thought. Never had it crossed your mind that Natasha might also be involve in the assassin industry. For such a planet, what were the chances of two assassins meeting and starting a relationship without either being the wiser. You weren't sure if that made her exceptionally good at her job, or you exceptionally bad at yours.

Asking around to some of your other contacts, you learned more about the KGB and the Red Room program that had trained Natasha, wanting a glimpse into her childhood. Disgust and rage filled you when you learned about the operation. They had hurt her, so you had made sure they all suffered for their crimes. Then, you returned back to America.

It was the reason you had stayed all these years. She was the reason. Though you've known where she's been all this time, you never revealed yourself. Maybe it was out of fear. Maybe it was out of shame.

It hadn't surprised you that Natasha decided to work for SHIELD. You've also known that she had a good heart, but it did make things more complicated.

She was one of the good guys now. If she ever crossed paths with you, she would be forced to face you as an enemy. So, for both of your sakes, you avoided doing things that would get SHIELD attention, carefully selecting jobs that would run under the radar. You had been careful, erasing most of your tracks, yet here you were, chained down to a table in a SHIELD facility.

Natalia-no-Natasha stared down at you. You unconsciously cringed under her intense gaze.

" How are you darling?" You asked, breaking the thick silence and giving her a small smile. "I must say, you look as stunning as always. Did you do something to your hair? It seems to be shorter."

Natasha didn't reply, instead shaking her head angrily. " What the hell, (Y/n). What are you doing in the U.S?"

Her harsh tone almost made you flinch. “ Here to visit my beautiful girlfriend? I've really missed you.” You tried, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your neck. Natasha may not have any powers but damn was this woman scary when she was mad. Flattery wasn't going to work on Nat though, her face stone cold as she looked down at you.

"That doesn't answer the question, milyy (darling)." She replied with a strained smile.

Tony watched the exchange with a slack jaw, eyes looking like they were going to pop out of his sockets from shock. “ I’m sorry? You know this criminal Nat?”

Your head snapped to the man, jaw clenching. “ Nat?" You sputtered at the intimate nickname. "Who gave you permission to call her Nat?” You swiveled back to look at Natasha. “What is your relationship with him?” You asked accusingly.

Natasha rolled her eyes, turning to Tony. “ Don’t call me Nat, Stark. And this idiot here is (Y/N).”

"Yeah, her [girlfriend/boyfriend] ! " You added helpfully.

The look Natasha gave you was deadly enough to silence you again. She turned her attention back to Tony, " Do you want to fill me on what's happening Stark? I return from a mission and hear from Steve that we had caught a mutant, but I wasn't even aware that we were after one." You frowned at the fact that had she referred to you as a mutant, but chose to ignore it.

Tony shrugged, acting like a bratty overgrown child," No, I don't want to." Natasha's jaw clenched and you decided to lend a helping hand.

Tendrils of black suddenly snaked around Tony, pining him hard against the wall behind him. His eyes widened, shooting to the origin of the magic, seeing you now unbounded and smiling widely at him, the handcuff hanging loosely off the table. Standing up, you rubbed at the red marks on your wrist left by the binds.

"Better answer her, Mr. Stark, I wouldn't want to get on her bad side." You threatened, eyes turning pure black for a split second.

Tony desperately looked at Natasha for help, but she stayed steadfast, unmoved and patiently waiting for him to answer. Realizing that no help was coming, he relented. "Fury got tipped off about some assassin that had been piling up bodies all across the U.S and North America. At first we dismissed them as the work of sporadic killers, not linking the deaths together until we got another tip about them being a mutant. We had Wanda examine a few of the bodies and she confirmed that magic was the cause of death. Since then, we've had our eye set on a contracted killer who went by the alias Reaper. A few weeks ago, we got a hit on their last location, and from there, we planned our trap."

Realization dawned onto you, " You put a bounty over yourself!" You exclaimed with a chuckle, thoroughly impressed by their commitment. It was a good plan, one that you hadn't even considered. Of course, if it had been any other week, the plan would've failed.

Every time you used magic, there was a backlash. The magic was deep inside you, a part of your very being, but it didn't stay that way willingly. The black flames were a dark and ancient form of magic, one that could only be wielded by a select few. Long ago, many groups had tried to master the arts, but most failed. The magic was powerful, more than anyone really knew, and only grew more so as it consumed more energy. Magicians didn't as much wield the magic, as they did subjugate it.

Candidates trained for years in preparation for the infusion, getting their body ready to handle massive amount of energy. When they were deemed ready, they would be exposed to a pure form of the magic. The flames would consume them and their screams could be heard for miles. Most people who entered the last trial end up dead, completely consumed by the magic. A few though, came out stronger. Instead of being consumed by the flames, they had somehow consumed the flames, magic now flowing through their veins.

Even then, the magic inside of wielders fought against their vessels, constantly trying to escape. The ring you wore helped you control the magic inside, absorbing some of the power and trapping the rest of the flames within you, where it couldn't escape and grow any stronger. But every time you took off the ring, you unintentionally let the magic grow, and when it finally returns back to you, the fight inside gets a little tougher.

Normally, it didn't affect you much. You had been trained since childhood to control the magic, so you could go hours with continuous magic use without any major repercussion. But the past month, you had really tested your bounds, toeing the limits of your control. This inevitably degraded your mental state, leaving your mind a little hazy. This meant you were a lot more impulsive and less observant, something that played in favor to SHIELD's trap. You knew you shouldn't have taken the hit on Tony, especially due to your exhaustion, but you had let your excitement of possibly seeing Natasha blind you. Nevertheless, the current situation didn't really worry you anyways, although you made a note to deal with a problem later.

"And why wasn't I informed of this?" Natasha pressed on.

"Don't take it personally. You're area of skills weren't required for the job, so you weren't informed. Simple as that." Tony plainly stated, clearly sensing the Russian's agitation.

You had to stifle your laughter at the irony. If Natasha had been assigned to the case earlier, you probably would've been captured much sooner.

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, obviously deep in thought as well. " Release him, (Y/N)." She finally said and you happily obliged, but not sliding you ring back on, letting the flames surround you in a hazy aura incase you needed to react to any threats. Tony let out of breathe of relief as your magic retreated, but you could see that he was still a bit shaken up, the effects not fully wearing off.

"Hey are you alright darling?" You asked concernedly, ignoring the wobbling man when you caught Natasha looking a little pale. Walking over to where she was, you reached out a hand to lightly caress her cheek, the flames retreating as it reached her. You hesitated for a split second, unsure of how she would react, but Natasha leaned into your touch. Her eyes met yours. It was the same bright green that you dreamt about, and they looked even more dazzling up close. She smiled up at you and it was like all the years you've spent apart hadn't happened.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She whispered reassuringly and you smiled too in relief. “ What does Fury want with the (Y/N)?” She asked Tony, but her eyes didn't leave you.

“ The same thing we do to all threats. We either eliminate or imprison them .” He answered, voice indifferent.

Natasha turned to him, much to your dismay, “Why can’t we accept them into SHIELD?” she offered instead.

Tony, who had thought your weird relationship with Natasha was the strangest thing that could happen, couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You want to let an assassin into our ranks? Are you crazy?! Did you already get your hands on the vodka shelf?” He stammered.

Natasha gave him a dark look, one that sent a chill of excitement down your spine, “I was an assassin too Tony.”

Tony didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, but he didn’t need to. The door to the room swung opened again, this time a larger blonde man marching in. You recognized him from your intel: Steve Rogers-Captain America. Behind him, you saw several heavily armed agents behind him, their guns trained on you.

Natasha whipped around at the sudden intrusion, surprise flashing across her face. " Steve." She said warningly, noticing the same things you did, but Steve didn't let her finish, already throwing out his shield in attack. The metal was launched at you, cutting through the air faster than the eyes could follow.

You easily caught it, magic stopping it mid-flight.

You sighed at his pathetic attempt, " Mr. Rogers, don't you know it's rude to interrupt? You can't just come in here, guns blazing, and shield flying." You reprimanded, lazily throwing the shield back to the man. Steve tried to catch the shield, but was knocked back by the sheer force of your throw. The men immediately behind him stumbled back in shock as the 6'1 super solider crashed into them. Those who were left standing quickly recovered and upon realizing that their first line of attack had been beaten, prepared to shoot. They found themselves unable to. Fear had crept up on them during the ruckus and now they were unable to move as your magic seeped through them. With a simple wave of your hand, the black flames around you attacked and within seconds, all the agents, including Cap, dropped to the floor.

"What?" Tony gasped in horror, and for the first time, he seemed to truly understand the extent of your power.

"Relax, they're not dead. I just knocked them out for-" You pretended to check your wrist for a watch, " -a while. I don't know, I usually don't wait around for the people I knock out to wake back up."

Natasha was staring in shock at the pile of bodies by the door and you saw something indistinguishable in her eyes. A distinct chime echoed off the walls of the room, drawing your attention to your phone in the corner. You walked over to it, Tony looking like he wanted to stop you but was too terrified to. Picking it up, you read the message silently. Shouting could be heard getting louder, footsteps pounding towards you as alarms blared.

"Looks like that's my cue to leave." You announced to Natasha and Tony. " Sorry to cut our reunion short Talia."

Natasha stepped forward, blinking out of her shock. "(Y/N) wait-!" She began.

"Don't worry, I think I'll be staying a little bit longer in New York. We'll see each other soon my love." You promised, picking up one of the fallen agent's guns and shooting out the lights until you were enveloped in pitch darkness. Then, before the backup agents could arrive, you melted away into the shadows.

///

You emerged from a dark alleyway in some shifty part of the Bronx. Pulling out your phone, you replied to Matt, your associate, declining the new job he had sent over, informing him that you would be taking a vacation for a while.

Seeing Natasha had reminded you of how much you actually missed her, and you didn't want to just leave New York yet, not when you barely had the chance to catch up with your lover.

But first, you had a snitch to catch. Someone had tipped off SHIELD about you. Someone who knew you about your power at that. You couldn't let someone so dangerous live.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Powers of Reader [Will be updated as more information is learned about Reader]

-Ability to set fear in opponents

-Ability to melt into shadows (teleportation like: goes into one shadow, pops up somewhere else)

-Magic flames that kill people(?) and knocks them out(?)

-Major simp for Natasha (special skill)

[bruhstories]

Vogel und Jäger

- PART THREE

Summary: You had your first show at Zeke's club, but things begin to complicate. Pairing: Zeke Jeager x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, Floch is a creep Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: as always, make sure to read parts one and two to understand just what the hell is happening. the songs reader is singing in this chapter are flickers and easy by son lux, which i've linked down below if you wanna listen to it as you read

For five long days you switched between training with Mikasa and practising with the band. The deadly assassin made you work hard, teaching you various techniques of martial arts, as well as how to load and unload guns, how to aim, how to use knives and even how to use crossbows. You were no match to anyone else in the family, getting your ass kicked even by Armin, the bookkeeper, but you were not going to give up. Your will to survive fuelled you. What you weren’t expecting in those five days was to get to know Mikasa and Armin, and realise that they were just as normal as you were — with the added benefit of being properly trained in marksmanship and combat. And they were surprisingly nice to you, but there was a hint of reluctance in their actions and words.

Friday night you had your first show and you found yourself in the backstage, a knot in your throat as you did your makeup. The idea of Yelena blowing your brains out was a lot more pleasant than having to perform in front of so many people. Posters had been put up all over Paradis City announcing your first show at Wings Club, and you knew lots of undercover policemen would be there, perhaps even undercover Marleyans. But for some odd reason, you wanted to please Zeke, make him proud of sparing your pathetic life. Onyankopon told you to be ready in five minutes, and your heart sank, wiping your sweaty palms on the crimson dress.

"You'll do fine." He told you, but you had a bad feeling. There were guards everywhere, so you felt somewhat safe, but stage fright settled in your heart, and you couldn't even reply anything back. All you did was remain stuck in a trance.

The band was ready, the microphone was on, and you waited for the curtain to rise. Someone announced your performance, and the violinist began playing the notes of the first song as the spectators waited eagerly. There were no original songs, only jazz covers, and you felt every single pair of irises burning into your skin. You closed your eyes, imagining no one was there but you and the band, everyone else disappeared.

"And with my opened mouth I join the singing light..."

There was no turning back now. You'd done it. The spotlight was on you and you alone. Soon the pianist joined, and you felt a bit more confident.

"I can see the flickers, over me the lantern raised... Lift me up, lift me over it. Show me what you're hiding, take me out into the sea... Lift me up, lift me over it."

Somewhere upstairs, Zeke was watching over you, door wide open to hear your beautiful voice hypnotising every man and woman in the club. Indeed, he made the right choice.

"And with my opened mouth I join the singing light..."

You were in a trance. Nothing mattered anymore but the music, the vibrations, the thrill of the show. It was giving you a sense of importance and belonging, and in that moment, you knew it — you were thriving off of the attention, the way no one dared to move while you sang. You captivated the spectators with your voice, you captivated Zeke with your voice.

"I can see the flickers, over me the lantern raised... Lift me up, lift me over it. Show me what you're hiding, take me out into the sea... Lift me up, lift me over it."

You finally opened your eyes, drinking in the way everyone was silent, the only sound resonating being the final notes from the musical instruments. The next songs came so much easier to you, some were more upbeat and you stopped being stiff, your hands moving up and down the microphone pole, hips swaying, head tilting. You ended your performance with another emotional song, and even you had goosebumps on your skin as you began to sing.

"Easy... easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy..."

You saw them, the two cops from the files. They were watching you like hawks, sending chills down your spine. But you were a distraction, so you looked them in the eye, a smile on your plump lips.

"Easy, easy... You break the bridle to make losing control easy, easy... Crushed what you're holding so you can say letting go is easy, easy..."

The song was coming to an end. You wrapped your arms around yourself to emphasise the emotions you were so gently transmitting, voice echoing in the club.

"Oh, easy, easy... Burn all your things to make the fight to forget easy, oh, easy... Burn all your things to make the fight to forget easy, easy..."

You weren't just transmitting an emotion, you were feeling it, too. The song resonated with your life, your struggles, your issues. You were alone most of your life, save for Historia and the children. But now... now you had someone, albeit being forced to work for the mafia. But you weren't alone anymore.

"Easy... easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy..."

You bowed in front of the crowd as a round of applause replaced your voice and music. It was exhilarating, the adrenaline not wanting to leave your body. You mumbled a soft thank you in the microphone before leaving the stage, tripping on the last step. Onyankopon was waiting for you with a large bouquet of peonies and daffodils, your eyes widening at the beautiful flowers and sweet scent.

"This is for you, miss." He smiled, but his smile was hiding something and you couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to!"

"Oh, it's not from me." Onyankopon pursed his lips. There it was. You looked at the card attached to the bouquet — You are as radiating as the sun, but as cold as the moon. E.S. The message was written in perfectly neat calligraphy.

"E.S.? Any idea who that might be?" You tucked the card between the flowers as you walked with the mobster in the dressing room.

"I know exactly who that is." He sighed, eyes narrowing at the bouquet. "Inspector Erwin Smith, chief of police. He handed me the flowers personally."

"Isn't he working for you?" You removed the heavy earrings from your earlobes.

"He is. It appears he likes you." Onyankopon folded his arms across his chest and a man with strawberry-blond hair entered the room, earning disgusted looks from all the half-naked girls there.

"Boss wants to see you." He sneered at you, goosebumps dotting your arms.

"We'll be upstairs soon, Floch."

"No, not you. Just birdie. Chop chop." Floch left the room and you got up. Onyankopon grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks before giving you a concerned gaze.

"Be careful around him. He's... strange."

"I'll keep my guard up." You tried to smile. There were lots of things you didn't know about the men you were working with, so you made a mental note to ask Sasha and Connie about Floch.

"So, I hear you're a prostitute." He bluntly stated, and you flinched at his words. The audacity of this bitch!

"Was." You corrected him. "Besides, it's none of your business."

Your shoulder blades met with a wall and you let out a whimper at the impact. Floch eyed you up and down, his hands holding you in place.

"Everything you do is my business." He sneered, his face leaning closer inch by inch, closing the gap between you. "Ah, you even smell like a whore."

You feel disgusted by that creep, the way he sniffed you twisting your lips into a frown. Onyankopon was right to warn you, and so you slap his face, hard.

"Don't touch me again." You lifted your gown above your ankles and walked up the stairs, with Floch behind you. Fucking pervert.

"Ah, little bird, you've been fantastic!" Zeke greeted you, cigarette between his fingers. "I heard you even received flowers."

"Yes, from Erwin Smith." You nod, eyes on Floch's shit-eating grin.

"Good. I want you to meet with him after your show tomorrow." Your boss smiled and your eyes drifted to the healing wound in your left hand. You knew you caouldn't say no. "I suspect he'll want to recruit you as a double agent."

"Do I accept?"

"Of course, but you'll be telling him exactly what I tell you."

"Understood."

"You may go. Don't forget to take your pay from Armin."

"Yes, sir." You gently bowed your head in respect and left. Floch whispered whoreas you passed him and you gritted your teeth.

"Say, Connie, can I ask you something?" You watched your roommate unbox some bottles of fancy liquor.

"Sure! What's on your mind?" He asked, focused on his task.

"What can you tell me about Floch?"

Connie almost dropped the bottle, his eyes finding yours. "Just that you should stay away from him."

Sasha walked in with what you assumed to be a bag full of drugs and that's when it clicked — they were going to put the drugs in the boxes and ship them. Clever.

"Floch is insane." The brown-eyed girl scrunched her nose. "He's obsessed with Eren and thinks Zeke should step down and let his brother take his place. Why? Did he do anything to you?"

"Yes and no." You proceeded to explain what happened back at the club to your roommates and the look of disgust on their faces only confirmed what you assumed.

So far, you decided to only trust Sasha, Connie and Onyankopon, and hope that Zeke wouldn't give up his title. Otherwise, you'd end up dead in a ditch, and the one who’d put a bullet between your eyes was Floch himself.

tagging @mxhi

[tenspontaneite]

Peace Is A Journey (Chapter 24/?)

In which Corvus has some visitors, Rayla takes the princes somewhere nice for a change, and Runaan sits in a new cell.

Warnings: Food shortage; discussion and portrayal of recently acquired physical disabilities.

(Chapter length: 17.5k. Ao3 link)

---

Corvus regarded his visitors. His visitors regarded him right back. In that moment, arrayed in this back room of the House of Healing, they seemed at an impasse.

Lord Viren’s children had come to see him in the afternoon. Having heard of his presence here, and what scant details of his mission he’d shared with the townsfolk, they’d arrived already brimming with questions and impatience. They wanted to know the details of his mission. They wanted intel on his mission.

Corvus had, of course, told them in no uncertain terms that the details of his mission were classified. Certainly, they were not available to two children who wouldn’t even say why they were here. He told them nothing; not even what he had shared with the townspeople.

That had led in turn to some squabbling over the semantics of childhood, and then to further attempts to wheedle information from him, and then to this: silence.

Finally, after a considerable amount of wheedling, complaining, and prodding, the dark mage – Claudia – changed tracks. “…Look,” she said, slowly, and for the first time since they’d arrived, there was a hint of something sincere in her voice. Corvus watched, stone-faced. “You heard about there being two kids with that elf, right? Do you know what that means?”

He wished he could fold his arms, but they weren’t exactly in a fit state for it. “Do you?”

She sighed, plainly frustrated, and lifted a hand to her face for a moment. “It’s Callum and Ezran, right?” she said, impatiently. “It has to be. The last time anyone saw them, was with her.”

Corvus noted her wording, and said nothing.

She wasn’t impressed by his reticence, and scowled. “If you can’t trust anything else, you should trust that we want to help them,” she informed him, resolute. Beside her, her brother shifted uncomfortably. “They’re our friends. We grew up with them. And if we’re going after them and you can’t, because you’re injured – you should tell us what you know. Anything that could help.”

There was, he thought, some honesty in that. He didn’t know how close the friendship between the princes and Viren’s children might be, but they had grown up with each other. That much was true. But… “You didn’t come here looking for them,” he said, eyes narrowed. “I know that.”

Claudia hesitated. She looked at her brother, who seemed about to speak, and motioned him silent. She spent several long moments thinking. Finally, she said “No, we didn’t.” She hesitated again. “We…thought they were dead.”

A lie. Or at least, not the full truth. It was plain from her expression. Sceptically, he asked “Did you?”

She stared at him, expression caught between frustration and irritation and some thread of genuine worry. She exhaled, and admitted “We…didn’t know for sure. But it – it seemed like that’s what would happen, you know? Elves kill people. What else was going to happen, when they ran off with her?”

That was interesting. “’Ran off with her’?” he repeated, sharply, and again she hesitated, plainly uncertain how much she should say. He could get it out of her, he thought. It would take just a little more prodding. “Until I understand what you’re doing here – why you’re really here – I’m not telling you anything,” he said to her, flatly. “I don’t need specifics, if you’ve got your own orders. But I’m not going to share classified information when, from what I know, there’s no good reason for Lord Viren’s children to be here chasing that elf.”

“Isn’t catching a bloodthirsty elven assassin enough?” she asked, with some asperity.

“No. It’s not. If that was all you were here for, your father would be working with General Amaya, and I’d know to expect you. Instead…” He lifted his eyebrows at them, as if to draw attention to their presence here.

She sighed. Her brother tapped his foot, clearly irritated. It took a while for her to deliberate, pacing a little, looking at him uncertainly, biting her lip. For some of that interim, she looked startlingly young. It was almost enough to make Corvus pity her. But he didn’t let his expression change. The General was counting on his judgement – the princes depended on his judgement. So he waited, and then, finally…

The dark mage came to a decision; he saw it in the slump of her shoulders, the way she exhaled, the way she looked at him.

“The elf stole something,” she said, plainly.

Her brother looked uneasy. “Claudia…”

“Shush, Soren.” She didn’t look away from Corvus. “The elf stole something,” she repeated, as though willing him to believe her, and he watched her carefully.

“Something important,” he judged, when he had looked, and determined that she seemed to be honest.

“A weapon,” said Claudia. “I’m not going to tell you what it is. But it’s – magical, and incredibly powerful. My father was keeping it secret, and safe, for if something big happened, and we needed it to protect the kingdom. But then…”

“The elf assassin broke into the castle and found it,” Corvus guessed, and she nodded. He considered the words for a long few seconds, wondering. There was truth to this; he could see it. It didn’t fill in all the gaps, not by any means, but it was important information. He wondered at the implications. “Who knew about it?” he asked, following one thread of thought.

The girl shifted uncomfortably. “Aside from us, and dad, I – think only the King knew. No one else. It’s important, and secret, so – that’s why he sent us after the elf. No one else could know.”

A weapon as powerful as she was implying…yes, that would be something to keep close to one’s chest. Something only to tell the primaries of a Kingdom about, certainly.

But…not to tell Amaya? She controlled the front lines to the entire Pentarchy. What sense could there be in not telling her something so potentially significant? “If it was so secret, then how did the elf know it was there?” he asked, instead of following that up. He doubted the Lord Protector’s daughter would know, or tell him, why her father had judged this too dire a secret for the General of the Standing Battalion.

She blinked, and frowned. “I think it was just by accident,” she said, slowly, as if she wasn’t sure. “Maybe she was told to break into dad’s workshop? It’s not like they wouldn’t know we had powerful mages, and powerful ingredients.”

If the stories were to be believed, it had been dark magic of unspeakable power that had slain Xadia’s monstrous King. Corvus couldn’t imagine anything else managing the feat. If he was Xadian command, and he was sending assassins into the stronghold of the enemy…yes, he thought he’d have them do their best to uncover and remove anything powerful enough to do it again. It made sense. He filed it away. “And what about the princes?” he asked, finally getting to the meat of the interrogation. She’d said the princes ran off with the elf, like she’d seen it. She’d been there.

She scowled, hand clenching on thin air, as though for some weapon she missed. “The elf-“ she started, then shook her head, angrily. “I don’t know how. I don’t know what she said. But – she convinced them to help her.”

Corvus sat up straighter, intent. “Willingly?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I wasn’t there when she found them. I don’t know what she did, or what she said, or if she cast some kind of – Moonshadow illusion on them…I don’t know.” The frustration in her voice, her bearing…it was utterly genuine. The memory angered her. Corvus watched very carefully. “All I know is that when she stole the weapon, and I found them there – the boys helped her get away.”

He nodded slowly. “Tell me how,” he ordered her. She stared at him, mulish, as though considering cutting off her tale. But in the end, she’d already started, and it was easier to get someone to keep talking than it was to get them to start.

“I had a primal stone,” she said. “I was going to hit the elf with lightning to stop her. But – Callum made me miss, and then trapped me, and ran off with the stone, after the elf and Ezran. By the time I got free, I couldn’t find them.”

Corvus blinked. “Isn’t lightning primal magic?”

“Primal stone,” she repeated, impatiently, and – Corvus didn’t know what that was, didn’t have any frame of reference for what it looked like, but…abruptly, he couldn’t help but remember that last glimpse of Prince Callum, right before the wind had hit him. The memory was coloured and scattered by the snapping, searing pain of the minutes that followed, but…

There had been something in his hand.

“What does it look like?” he asked, slowly, trying to blink away the memory of the wind, the cliff, the fall. “This…primal stone.”

Claudia frowned, suspicious. “Why? It’s gone.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Corvus said, and then “Humour me.”

“…It’s like a glass ball, with a miniature storm inside.” She watched him, eyes narrowed. Clearly, she wanted an explanation of her own, now.

He nodded, and the pieces clicked together in his head. “Prince Callum still has it.”

She blinked rapidly. “What? Are you sure?” The incredulity made sense. What kind of elven captor would let her captives, deceived or not, keep hold of something that – in some measure – could allow them to attack with magic?

Still. “I’m sure,” he said, thinking of the campsite that looked like it had been ravaged by an isolated windstorm, of the dead fish floating in the lake, of – of the cliff edge. “And he knows how to use it, too.”

“That’s impossible,” the dark mage said, frowning. “He’s never learned any spells.”

“He knows at least one.” Corvus shrugged. “Maybe the elf taught him. I wouldn’t know. But if you’re in pursuit…” he hesitated, and sighed. He rubbed a hand over his eyes.

That was it, then, wasn’t it? He believed the girl. She had a legitimate – if suspicious – reason to be here, and she and her brother were able to make a pursuit. If they had a chance of getting to the princes…he had to give them something. Any less would be irresponsible. If they caught up and then failed, or were killed, because of a lack of intel…that would be on him.

The girl didn’t fail to notice his change of heart. “You’re going to tell us what we need?” she guessed, watching him.

After a moment, Corvus nodded. “I’ll share my observations with you.”

“Finally!” the Crownguard boy exploded, as though the outburst had been brewing through every moment of his unwilling silence. “I thought you were going to keep us here forever!”

“It would’ve been faster, if you’d been honest from the start,” Corvus told him flatly, and received a very grumpy frown in response. He turned back to the girl, who was waiting for him to speak, shoulders tense with barely-leashed impatience. “Do you have a way to track them?” he asked, instead of speaking. “They’ve gone through the mountains, now, and there were several days of snow to cover their tracks. They could be anywhere.”

The dark mage’s hand drifted to the satchel at her side. “…Yeah, we have a way.”

Her brother stared at her. “Wait, we do? Then why did we take the dogs all this – ow!” he cut off as his sister elbowed him, glaring.

“The dogs were before there was a storm and rain getting in the way,” she told her brother, sourly. ���What do you think I was going through all those caves looking for? I needed components. It’s not like they grow on trees.”

Quietly, Corvus gritted his teeth, and banked the flare of fury that surged at her words. There was dark magic to track the princes. Magic that the Lord Protector could have offered…and hadn’t.

Nothing to be done, he told himself, and tried not to react outwardly. It was something else to tell General Amaya. Being angry at this witchling wasn’t going to get him anywhere useful.

“So?” she demanded, when he’d been silent a while. “What do you know?”

He exhaled, and looked at them. The princes knew them; would recognise them on sight. That was…good. If they trusted these two, they might well have better luck than he had. “The princes appear healthy, and don’t seem to have been harmed,” he said, directly. “They’re not restrained, and help with camping and travelling. I can’t say how much of that is willing, but they’re helping.” He hesitated, then finally sighed. “If you attack the elf, they might defend her.”

Both of them stared at him. “What?” the girl asked, bewildered. “Why?”

“She’s an elf,” Soren objected, similarly taken-aback. “Her gang killed their father. Why would they help her?”

Corvus shrugged tiredly, then winced. He had a lot of broken bones, and a lot of bruises, and every movement hurt. “Maybe they don’t know,” he suggested, half-heartedly. “I don’t know what the reasons are. Maybe they really are bewitched. But…” His hand drifted slowly to his sling. “Well. I’m in this House for a reason, you know.”

If they’d looked surprised before, they seemed astonished now. “Wait, but – didn’t the elf do that to you?” The Crownguard boy demanded. “We heard she’d pushed you off a cliff!”

He shook his head, silent. “You heard wrong. The elf – she’s injured. I almost had her, but then…” He couldn’t quite help it. It was all so tangled up in the memory of pain, and confusion, and fear – that image of the terrified boy with the glassy stone in his hand. He laughed, and it hurt. “Prince Callum pushed me off the cliff.”

“Callum?” Claudia repeated, fully incredulous.

“But he’s so scrawny!” Her brother protested. “And he sucks at fighting.”

It was hard to reconcile those words with the remembrance of what had happened to him. “He blew me off the cliff,” he clarified. “With magic. A – it felt like getting hit head-on by a sudden, horrible gust of wind…”

The girl had a hand over her mouth, aghast. “I – are you sure?”

“It certainly wasn’t the elf,” Corvus said mirthlessly. “She was on her back on the ground, and I was about to kill her. So it was either Prince Callum, or Prince Ezran. And Prince Callum was the one who was-“ His wounds ached, and he cut off, feeling a light tremor in his fingertips. Wordlessly, he gestured with one hand, as if holding a ball. It was explanatory enough.

“I…never thought he had something like that in him,” Claudia murmured, seeming almost shaken. “He was always so…goofy. And kind.”

“Maybe he really has gone elf-mad?” Soren suggested, worriedly. “Bloodthirsty, like one of them.”

Corvus shook his head again, and sighed. It hadn’t been bloodthirst, in that face. Only the awful, panicked terror of someone looking a friend’s death in the eye. “Be careful,” was what he said, in the end. “He knows you, so maybe he’ll trust you. But – be careful, attacking the elf.”

“We will,” the girl promised, still looking a little unsteady. “What can you tell us? You said she was injured…”

“She has some kind of magic tourniquet on her wrist that won’t come off. I assumed a dark mage must be responsible for it.” He looked at her, questioningly.

She frowned and shook her head. “Wasn’t my spell.”

“Your father?”

“Dad didn’t see her. He was in the tower.” And there weren’t any other registered dark mages, in this part of Katolis. Who then cast the spell? Something else to note in his upcoming report, to be certain.

“Well, wherever it came from, she’ll probably have lost the left hand by now,” Corvus said in the end, pursing his lips. “She’s a dual-wielder, so it should make her much easier to fight. On top of that – I did hit her, at least twice. She’ll have at least a shallow wound in the shoulder, and one or two severe injuries on her left arm.”

“Finally, some good news,” grumbled the Crownguard, rolling his shoulders as if they were growing stiff from standing still too long. “A one-handed elf will be easy to deal with.”

“Don’t get overconfident,” Corvus told him, remembering the elf’s skill and agility, obvious even when she’d been injured. “She’s a skilled opponent, with the senses and reflexes of any Moonshadow elf. Don’t let your guard down.”

“I was there at the tower, you know,” the boy said, a little irate, and a little uneasy. Like the memory was an unpleasant one. As well it should be; Corvus had heard most of the Crownguard defending the tower had died. How many survivors had there been, other than this boy? How many of his fellows had he seen die? “I know they’re dangerous. But this one’s going to be missing a hand. That’s got to count for something.”

“We’ll make sure to avoid attacking at full moon, too,” said Claudia, looking speculative. “You said you injured her? Like, with a weapon? Did you break skin?”

Corvus eyed her, strangely. “…Yes?” he said, slowly. “I use a hook and chain. I caught her with the hook, on at least two prongs – it was a ripping injury, would’ve been messy, and slow to heal. Why?”

“Any chance you’ve got the weapon around, and it still has some blood on it?” she pressed. “I can use something like that to track her. We’ve got hair from the boys we can track them with, but…” she trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid: if something happened to the princes, there’d be no way to track the elf.

He held silent for a moment. “I had to leave my hook behind, at the base of the cliff,” he said, in the end. “If it’s not buried in snow, there’ll probably be old blood on it. You’d have to find it, though.” He thought for a moment. “The bargemen who found me will probably have directions for you.”

She looked delighted. “Great! That just leaves one thing…”

Corvus lifted an eyebrow.

The dark mage, daughter of the Lord Protector, grinned sunnily. “Do you know where we can find a mountain guide?”

 ---

 Some time later, with a few mental notes taken, Claudia took her brother and her supplies and left for the outskirts.

When they were a short distance outside the town – far enough to deter snoopers but not so far it’d be annoying to get back – she set out her bag and got to work.

“Can you maybe explain why we had to walk out here?” Soren demanded, while she was plucking vials and bunches of supplies from her collection with wild abandon. “I thought we were supposed to be looking for – elf blood, or mountain guides, or something.”

“We can go back later. First I need to know what we can do,” Claudia said, with half of her attention; she was far more focused on the spellwork now.

“That doesn’t answer anything.”

She flapped a hand at her brother distractedly. “Not now, Sor-bear. I’ve got to do some testing.”

He eyed her supplies, expression souring. “Great. More creepy dark-magic-stuff.” She didn’t deign to answer that, and after a moment, he asked “You’re casting spells now?”

“Yep,” she agreed, lining up her ingredients neatly, ready for use.

“But aren’t those, you know, supposed to be rare? I thought you were saving all-“ he waved at her bag, “that, for important stuff.”

“This is important,” she insisted, and eyed their surroundings calculatingly. “This is going to decide which way we need to go. And how big a mountain we need to climb.” She considered a nearby boulder-sized rock with interest, and then a sort of snowed-over grassy bluff of packed soil a little closer, about half as tall as the rock. After some deliberation, she took her selected ingredients and made for the bluff.

“How’s it going to do that?” he pressed, dubiously. “And why are we climbing mountains anyway? Aren’t we supposed to be catching up to the elf?”

Claudia laid her things out atop the bluff, running her eyes over them analytically. “Well, you see, my tracking spell is supposed to be cast from the tallest mountain,” she said, and plucked a leaf from a half-dead oak sapling peeking through the snow nearby. “And normally, that’d mean Kalik.”

Soren blinked. “But Kalik is at least two weeks’ riding away!”

“Exactly,” she agreed. “Which is why I’m doing this. I need to know what counts as ‘tallest mountain’ for the spell. Because it can’t just be tallest mountain ever, right? Pretty sure I’ve read that Del Bar has something taller than Kalik.”

“…The elves could have tall mountains, too.”

“Dad did say the lair of the Dragon King was on a really, really tall mountain. So, you’re probably right,” Claudia mused, and then approached Soren, holding the leaf out. “Here, lick this.”

“What?”

“Lick the leaf, Soren,” she repeated. “I need it for my test.”

He folded his arms. “But why?”

Her eyebrow twitched. “For the spell. It’s not a big deal, just lick the leaf!” She shook the leaf at him, more insistently.

“Why can’t you lick the leaf?”

“Because I’m doing the test! I can’t lick the leaf when I’m the one doing the test!”

“Why not?”

“Because then it won’t work! Just lick the leaf!” She shoved it in his face until it was up against his nose. He grimaced, snatched it from her fingers, and stared at it suspiciously.

“Is this going to do something weird and creepy to me?” he asked her, wary. “Like turn my tongue purple? Or make my pee green? I don’t want to have green pee again.”

“That was one time, Soren. And no, it’s not going to do anything like that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off a headache. Should’ve just pulled one of his hairs out, she reflected, morose. But no, she’d wanted to be nice to him, and not cause him the admittedly tiny amount of pain that the plucking of a singular hair would involve. Or, technically, two hairs. Maybe more. It’d depend how many tests she needed. Again, she repeated: “Lick the leaf.”

Soren stared at it, grumpily resigned. He licked the leaf. “Happy?” he demanded.

“Let’s find out.” She sighed, plucked the leaf from his fingers by the stem, and took it over to the rest of the stuff. “Stay there.” He made a belligerent noise at her but stayed put, arms folded as he watched her ascend the small grassy bluff again.

She’d been telling the truth about this being important, but still…it galled to be using such valuable and rare ingredients for experimentation. But dad wasn’t here to consult, so she had to make do. One way or another, they needed to know which way to go. So:

Claudia uncapped the wisp bottle, set the oak leaf down as the focus, and reached out to burn.

The heady power of the spell flowed through her veins, swelling behind her eyes. It ached, a little, but it was an ache she’d grown used to over the years; now, she imagined she could feel the way that the strength of the magic grew within her, making her an ever-greater vessel for its might. Great spells did that, dad said. The more magic you cast, the more room there was for it inside you, and the stronger you became. She believed it. She believed it more with every spell she wrought.

This wasn’t a ‘great’ spell. But it was what she needed, for now.

The magic on her lips distorted the words she spoke, so that they came out backwards and echoing. It loosed the spell, and she blinked black eyes as she watched.

The violet of the tracking spell glowed, then shot upwards; it formed an arc from the point she’d cast it from to – well. To the target. The magic came down on Soren and hit him solidly on the head, casting purple wisps all around him. “Claudia!” he spluttered, indignant, wiping furiously at his hair.

“Oh, shush, none of it even stayed in your hair,” she dismissed, observing him sharp-eyed. Well, that worked, she thought, a little disturbed by the ease of it.

An arc. Upwards from point-of-casting, and then down to the target. But it only went so far up.

What would happen if there was something taller between the target and the cast-point?

She had a feeling she knew. But it needed testing. So… “I need you to lick another leaf,” she told her brother, and he glared at her.

“What, so you can hit me with weird glowing things again?” he demanded, and she considered it.

“Yep,” she agreed, honest. “But if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure it’s not going to work this time.”

He subsided a little, from confusion more than anything else. “Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I need to understand how it works,” she said. “And if it doesn’t work, then I’ll understand.”

Soren grumbled and complained at her, of course, but eventually she got another saliva sample from him. Then she directed him to stand a good distance behind the big rock, in a direct straight line from the grassy bluff.

She cast the spell again. And, as she’d predicted, the arc of the spell brought it up a short distance….and then its downwards arc impacted the intervening rock. Thwarted. The wisps burst around the stone and began to dissipate.

Claudia sighed, satisfied, then went to retrieve her brother.

“So?” he asked, looking considerably less grumpy now that he’d gotten out of being pelted with magic a second time.

“We don’t need to climb Kalik,” she determined, hefting the strap of her bag back onto her shoulder. “We just need the tallest mountain between here and where the e-“ She hesitated, then amended herself. “Where Callum and Ezran and the elf are.”

Soren seemed appeased by that. “Well, good. So where’s that?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know,” she answered cheerfully. “Let’s go ask around and find out.”

 ---

 For all the difficulty imposed by the snow and ice, Rayla had been right: it did get easier to breathe as they descended. It didn’t do much for the developing blisters on his toes, but he started to regain his breath, and it became easier to talk as they walked. Time passed faster that way. He barely tripped over his snowshoes, he didn’t fall off of anything unfortunate, and the rest of the day’s walking went smoothly. He had the sense that Rayla was beginning to look for somewhere suitable to stop, but…

In the end, a few hours past lunch, their path was interrupted by a river. A very remarkable river.

Callum stopped short as it pulled into view, eyes widening, fingers reflexively reaching for his sketchbook. He had to stop himself from opening it and starting to draw then and there, and just stared with undisguised wonder instead.

Spilling over a rock wall around thirty feet high, there was a waterfall – wide and glittering and entirely frozen.

“Whoa,” he breathed, staring at it, Rayla slowing to a halt ahead of him. She looked back, eyebrow raised, and then back at the frozen river and the frozen waterfall as if it were nothing interesting at all.

“What?” she asked, looking almost amused. “Never seen a waterfall before?”

“It’s frozen,” Ezran exclaimed, neatly summing up the novelty of it.

He couldn’t get his head around how crazy it looked. If it had frozen steadily, he’d have maybe expected the surface of the ice to be sort of…drippy looking, as if water had sluiced down over the existing ice and frozen half-way down. But it wasn’t like that at all. Instead, the ice looked frothy, full of splashing and tumbling shapes that seemed to have frozen in a split-second, preserving all the life and movement of a living waterfall, now motionless in solid ice. The river that ought to have run across their path was frozen, too…although, now that he looked, he thought there might be water running under the icy surface somewhere.

“How does anything even freeze like that?” he wondered aloud, eyes drifting back to the waterfall and its astonishing appearance. It glittered under the sunlight, full of icy blues that deepened towards the middle, the colours shifting as he craned his neck to look at it. “It’s amazing.”

Rayla rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips as she glanced at him. “It’s just frozen water,” she said, dryly, and stepped towards the river. “Which is less awful than normal water, but…still not exactly my favourite thing. Let’s just cross over and keep going, alright? We’re not here to admire the scenery.”

Ezran pulled his eyes from the waterfall and scurried over to her side, pulling urgently on her sleeve. “But it’s useful, isn’t it?” he wheedled, eyes wide-blue and sparkling like the waterfall. “We should camp next to it! We’ll have so much water to use, right there!”

“We’d still need to melt it,” she said, cynically, and then blinked at the river. Perhaps she’d seen the hints of moving water underneath, as he had. “…Or…maybe not,” she amended. “Hm.” She tilted her head, and he wondered if she was thinking of how long it had been since any of them had washed…well, anything, really. Clothes, themselves, equipment…the most they’d had access to was whatever they boiled in their pot.

Though, he had to admit, he wouldn’t exactly be keen to wash in water that was literally frozen over.

“…It’s not too long from when we’d be stopping anyway,” Callum implored, after a few moments, and saw potential success in the way that Rayla sighed and did not immediately deny it. It was the truth, right? She’d been scoping places out to camp already. “We might as well just set up here.” And then maybe he could spend some time drawing the waterfall from sight instead of from memory, if there was a chance for it.

She didn’t answer, instead looking up at the waterfall, eyes narrowed. She moved her head from side to side, as if trying to gauge the distance, or…something.

“…Rayla?” he prompted, as she stepped a little closer to the ice, still tilting her head like she was trying to take its measure. “Is something wrong?”

“Is there something in the ice?” Ezran inquired, interested.

“This isn’t ‘The Sword in the Waterfall’, Ez,” Callum said, but he was looking too. Instead of answering, Rayla picked her way across the rocks jutting from the river’s ice, and then went up and to the side of the waterfall, peering at something there.

“I think there’s a cave behind here,” she announced after a moment, eyes on the side of the waterfall, by the rocks. “The shadows in the waterfall don’t make sense, for there just being solid rock behind, so…cave. If I can just…” She extracted a blade with her right hand, flipped it to pick-shape, and then hacked at the side of the waterfall. A large chunk of ice cracked off and fell noisily around her ankles.

“Rayla!” he reprimanded, indignant. “I was going to draw that!”

“I’m not going to break the whole waterfall, Callum,” she said, rolling her eyes, still assailing the ice, sending pieces flying everywhere. She might’ve claimed that the moon phase was making her weaker, but it certainly didn’t look like it. “You’ll have plenty left, don’t you worry.”

“It’s not like you wouldn’t just remember it anyway, you know,” Ezran added, from beside him, and Callum crossed his arms.

“I like to draw from life sometimes,” he said, a little sulkily, and then startled at a little at a pronounced cracking sound as Rayla broke through. The next moment saw her literally kicking in the side of that part of the waterfall. A whole section of the ice just caved in, crumbling inwards, and then there was a hole.

Rayla peered in. “Definitely a cave,” she said, with satisfaction. “So long as there’s nothing nasty in there, we might not even have to bother with the tent tonight.”

Carefully, Callum tried to venture across the frozen river to join her in looking in, though he didn’t even bother with attempting to step across the rocks like Rayla had. He’d definitely fall over, probably breaking the ice in the process. At least the river didn’t seem at all deep. It was basically just a very wide stream. The snowshoes were rough enough to offer some purchase on the ice, so – carefully – he crossed over, stopping by Rayla’s side.

He peered through the hole she’d made. Behind the ice, the river was still running shallowly, streaming down the ice, and…sure enough, there was a deep yawning shadow behind the waterfall that seemed to go quite far back.

“Define ‘nothing nasty’,” he said, after a moment, beckoning Ezran over. “Do caves usually have something nasty in them?”

“Caves are good places for animals to live!” Ezran chirped, still inching his way carefully over the ice. Bait was following grumpily at his heels; he loved water, but wasn’t a fan of ice. “They’re warmer and more sheltered. So there could be a bear or a banther or something in there.” He eyed the waterfall with interest, as though trying to peer past its darkness to the hypothetical animal denizens within.

And there was a thought. “Can you feel anything?” Callum asked, curious. “Like you could feel where animals were during the storm?”

Ezran blinked, taken-aback. He plainly hadn’t thought of that. “I mean, maybe? I could try?” Rayla nodded at him encouragingly, so he clamped his eyes shut and went silent. Whatever he was doing seemed to be a struggle. Evidently the power of the storm had magnified his abilities beyond what he could manage now. “…There are some alive-things in there,” he said, finally, opening his eyes. “But it’s hard to feel them from here. I think they’re pretty small, though.” He frowned. “And…fluttery? With wings?”

“Bats?” Callum suggested, thinking of fluttery winged things that might live in caves.

“Bats don’t like places this cold.” He sounded dubious.

Rayla didn’t comment on it either way, just tilted her head at the dark passageway. “Pretty narrow, a little further in. Don’t think a bear could get through there,” she decided, after a moment. Then she whistled sharply into the cave, seeming to listen to the way the noise of it resounded along the stone. “Goes pretty far in.”

“I want to see it!” Ezran said, intrigued, looking as though he were about to step into the darkness that very second. Before Callum could do anything, Rayla put a hand on his brother’s shoulder to stop him.

“Why don’t you let me check it out, first?” she suggested, gently nudging him back. “I’ll just go take a wee look around, make sure it’s alright.” Her lips twisted with a hint of humour. “Keep an ear out, and run if you…I don’t know, hear me yelling about mountain lions, or something.”

“I’d like to meet a mountain lion,” Ez objected, wistful, and Callum patted him absently on the shoulder, already distracted with watching Rayla stalk into the mouth of the cave, weapon still at the ready. Within a few moments the shadows had swallowed her, and he couldn’t see her at all. It was weirdly nerve-wracking; uncomfortably reminiscent of watching her disappear into that awful blizzard. He exhaled, forced himself to relax, and waited.

After a few minutes, for lack of anything else to do, they started speculating idly on what she’d find. Ezran wanted some cool animals, winged or otherwise. Callum wanted a nice vacant space that would make a sheltered and less-cold camping ground. Ezran agreed that a sheltered campsite would be nice, but remained very certain about wanting to meet some cool animals.

He was in the middle of unfolding the tale of the bats he’d found under the castle machicolations last year when Rayla suddenly re-emerged, bereft of her packs, looking intrigued and bright-eyed and in general not as if she were being urgently pursued by the occupants of anything. Nonetheless, she materialised so suddenly from the narrow darkness of the cave that he jumped a little, pulse jolting with surprise.

“I’m back,” she announced unnecessarily, her cheeks pink with excitement and a smile upon her lips. Reflexively, he found himself smiling back, a little startled by her obvious cheer. “The cave is – you’ve got to see this.” In a flash, she’d disappeared into the cave opening again. He stumbled after her, mildly alarmed.

“Er, Rayla?” he said, into the dark, exchanging a bemused smile with his brother. “You know we can’t see in there, right?”

There was a pause, and then she ducked back out into the light again, just close enough to the cave mouth that he could see her eyes glowing in the shadows. “Forgot about that,” she admitted, and then a hand extended from the darkness. “I’ll lead you in.”

He eyed it, shrugged, and reached out to close his fingers around hers. “…Sure,” he sighed, and then reached out behind him for Ez. “C’mon, Ez, take my hand. I’ll try not to trip over anything.”

His brother snickered at him, but obligingly reached out, and then they were walking in a little row along the tremendously narrow cave passage towards…whatever Rayla wanted to show them. Bait started glowing a while in, which at least let Callum see where he was putting his feet, and from there on it was easier to follow where she was leading. The air tasted like an echo of the waterfall, all damp rock and wet air. It was oddly pleasant.

“This goes pretty far,” he noted, craning his neck to try to see whatever she had found so remarkable. The air grew palpably warmer as they turned a narrow corner, squeezing past the rock, becoming damp and humid rather than damp and cool. A new scent came into the air; something green and verdant, like the smell of wet moss in an old forest.

“It’s pretty warm in there, actually,” she said, as if echoing his thoughts, still cheerful. “It’ll be a good place to camp.” He was opening his mouth to question her when she cut him off, announcing “Here we are!” Then, with a flourish, she bowed them into the wider cavern.

He stared, open mouthed, and stepped tentatively out into the open space, ghostly light spilling around him. Rayla slipped ahead of him and turned back, grinning a little as she watched for their reactions.

He tried to say something, but all he managed was “whoa.”

The cavern was relatively large, tall enough to accommodate thrice or more Rayla’s height, and wide enough that they could comfortably put up six or seven tents if they felt like it. The whole place was suffused with light: it glowed on the walls from strange phosphorescent mushrooms that grew in frilly clusters upon the rock; it glowed in points of light in the thick damp mosses under his feet; it glowed in the strange little wisps that danced around in the air. There were butterflies too, or maybe moths, fluttering this way and that in the glittering air, casting gentle light from their wings.

And there were plants! Not just mosses, but thriving leafy shrubs, and even what looked like a couple of young pine or spruce saplings – little trees with delicate needles on their branches. There were even a few larger ones, almost tall enough to brush the roof of the place, wreathed in glittering vines that climbed up their trunks. The whole cavern, trees and all, seemed suffused with a blue-green glow, moving and shifting as the light-wisps roamed.

A few of the glowing moths fluttered past, and he lifted a hand to one. He wasn’t really expecting anything, but – it landed on his finger, wings opening and closing, and he was absolutely certain that his face looked completely ridiculous right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He stared at the moth with wonder, admiring its enormous pale green wings and the metallic bronze patterning, and kept staring long after it fluttered away from his finger again. “Wow,” he breathed, looking out at the cavern with a sort of stunned awe.

“It’s so pretty,” Ezran said, similarly spellbound, and when Callum glanced at him he was already covered in the wispy light-things, and was amassing an entourage of moths. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“It reminds me of some of the parts of the forest I live in, back in Xadia,” Rayla spoke, and there was a contented smile on her lips as she looked around them. “All the glowing things, you know? And the colours, and Moon-moths. Feels a little like home.”

For a second, Callum was very, very jealous. But that envy lost cohesion quickly in the face of this kind of awe. He stared around, eyes drinking in the cave and committing it to memory as best he could. This kind of environment would be hard to do any proper justice with just charcoal and paper, but…with luck, in the future, he’d have access to paints again, and could capture this scene properly. “I can’t wait to see Xadia, then,” he said softly, and looked back at Rayla just in time to see one of the light-wisps fall into her cupped hands.

The wisp flickered gently in her palms as she smiled down at it. A moth had landed on her left horn, and another on her shoulder, and the wisps followed in their wake as if moving on some invisible current. She looked at once far more serene and far more content than he thought he’d ever seen her, and – and suddenly, he couldn’t quite seem to look away. The shifting light over her skin drew his eyes to follow it; he watched her white hair reflect the colours of the glowing cave, her eyes luminescing as though to match all the other magical things around her.

He forced his eyes away, heartbeat strange in his throat. More in an effort to distract himself than anything, he asked aloud, “How are all these plants even growing in here? Don’t they need sunlight?” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bait already off trying to hunt moths, and shook his head. Those moths were huge. Maybe too huge for a glow-toad. But then again, what did he know? Bait ate all sorts of weird stuff.

Rayla looked upwards at the cave ceiling as if trying to find some hidden aperture to the sky, then shrugged. “I guess not?” she offered, still with that small contented smile. “Magic’s like that, you know. Things that shouldn’t be able to live somewhere just…can. And then you get places like this.”

And, supposedly, that sort of magic was everywhere in Xadia. “I can’t wait to see Xadia,” he reiterated, fervently, and cautiously set his bag down. The ground was carpeted in moss of varying thickness, with very few patches that were just lichen-encrusted stone. He eyed it for a few more moments, and said “You know, we probably don’t even need to set out our cloaks to sleep on.”

Ezran turned his attention to the cave floor, his body still entirely shrouded in light-wisps. They seemed to like him, enough so that he had to brush a few away from his eyes to see. He giggled as they passed over his skin, and then carefully lowered himself and his bag to the ground, bouncing experimentally. “Yeah, this moss is pretty comfy,” he reported, cheerful. “What a great place to camp! I wonder if there’s any animals in here?”

Rayla huffed with amusement, wandering over to ruffle his hair, displacing a few wisps. “If there are, I’m sure you’ll find them.”

Within minutes, Ezran was off prancing through the cave, investigating every tree root, every stalagmite, every mushroom. It was such a delight to see him this happy that Callum didn’t even consider calling him back to help with setting up; practicality could wait a while.

“It’s good to see him so cheerful,” Rayla said to him, a smile on her lips, as if reading his mind. “I was worried.”

“Yeah,” Callum agreed, gut twisting a little at the memory. “Last few days…it’s been pretty tough.”

She glanced at him, sidelong. “They have,” she agreed, after a moment. “But-“ she broke off, and muttered to herself, “Of course you wouldn’t know,” before looking back at him again. “He’s having trouble sleeping.”

He blinked, and re-evaluated his memories of his brother throughout the day. Ez had looked tired, sure, but…well, recent times had been tiring. It had made sense they wouldn’t be fully recovered from it. But… “He is?” Was he having nightmares? Callum would have expected to wake up, if his brother had been having nightmares. He always had in the past.

“Mm. Azymondias is keeping him awake. I woke up a bit last night, talked to him.” She shrugged, looking briefly uncomfortable. “Don’t know how much sleep he got, in the end.”

Callum grimaced. One more repercussion from that awful storm. “Well, that’s not ideal,” he said, now a little worried. This kind of travelling was hard enough even on a full night of sleep. He’d slept pretty well last night, after all, and everything had still been exhausting. What if it was a persistent problem? What if it kept keeping Ezran awake? That…wouldn’t be good. “…Maybe it’ll pass? When more of the storm-magic is gone.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t look convinced. After a moment, she sighed and shook her head. “Well, we’ll find out, I suppose. For now…” she gestured at their bags, hers on the ground and his still on his back. “We could get set up?”

“We won’t need the tent today, right? It’s really warm in here.” A novel experience, really. Even the tent last night had turned chilly by morning. A thought occurred to him, and he huffed. “Gonna be weird to have space to sleep again. We’ve been squashed in that tent for weeks now.”

For some reason, she flushed and looked away. “Yeah. Weird,” she muttered, ears flicking back, and turned to kneel to the bags. “…We won’t need the tent, no. But I reckon we should get everything out anyway. The tent was covered in frost this morning – it needs to dry.”

He nodded, and crouched to help her. “And if we’re going to be washing clothes and stuff, we should probably get all of that out, too.”

“Might as well,” she agreed, and so, without further ado, they started unloading their bags. Over the next ten minutes or so, everything came out; even the slabs of frozen, yet-uncooked meat that had been wrapped and tied to the sides. Rayla took those out through the cave mouth to sit behind the icy waterfall, there to remain frozen, with the exception of an already partially thawing one that she left to defrost in the corner.

Ezran noticed her coming and going, and then noticed that they were doing work without him, and came over to complain. “You should’ve called me, if you were going to be doing stuff,” he said reprovingly. “I can help.”

“I know you can, Ez,” Callum smiled, and reached out to ruffle his hair. “You were having fun, though. And it’s not like unpacking is hard.”

“Still,” his brother insisted, and looked at what he was doing, calculating. “We’ll need wood, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Ezran nodded, determined. “I’ll go get that, then.”

Rayla returned in short order, and the two of them went back to their tasks while Ezran saw to his. With clothes, food, medical supplies, and other miscellanea separated into their discrete piles, it became clear how much cleaning really needed to be done. “I really bled over a lot of clothes,” Rayla said, sourly, inspecting the torn shirt, undershirt, and jacket she’d been injured in. Not to mention the sweater she’d started to bleed through, early on. “These stains aren’t going to come out.”

“That’s…fine,” Callum said, trying not to think about the blood too much. “It’s just clothes, and we’re travelling. It’s not like we need to look good.”

She glanced at him. “Yeah, but these aren’t just dirty, they’re ripped. I can wear them, maybe, but only if I cut the arms off. Might be worth more as cloth to wrap food with.” She frowned at the clothing, and sighed. “Well, whatever. I can put my clothes back on, after this. They’ve got the arms bare, anyway.” Left unsaid was the fact that, with bare arms, it would be easier to get at the bandages. Though he couldn’t imagine she’d be travelling without a sweater on any time soon, with how cold it was.

Callum nodded, sparing a moment to despise the fact that she had to plan her outfits around how hard it would be to access her wounds. “…Is it hard to get in and out of, though? I don’t think I could get at your shoulder through your assassin jacket thing.”

She made a face. “Right. Shoulder. Stab-wound.” She shook her head, annoyed. “No, the light armour is kind of a pain to get dressed in.” Her eyes slid to her own arm. “Suppose I’ll just have to stick to what I’m wearing until I’ve healed up a bit more.”

“…You can always borrow some of my stuff, if you need to?” he suggested, vaguely abashed to suggest it. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been borrowing and wearing his clothes for most of the journey already. “I mean. I think most of it needs washing, for now, but…”

Her expression was amused. “I’m technically already borrowing your stuff, Callum.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He coughed, embarrassed, and changed the topic. “So – how exactly are we going to wash everything? Break a hole in the ice?” The idea of having his hands in water that cold was very far from appealing, but…

“We’d freeze our hands off,” Rayla said, shaking her head. “Nah, I’d best just find somewhere we can heat water and make a pool to wash everything in. There’ll be somewhere that works for it around here.”

True to her words, Rayla went out into the cave again and did a quick circuit of all the walls, eventually finding a rocky hollow behind the waterfall where water had pooled and frozen. She promptly grabbed a sword and went to break the ice out, claiming it’d work just fine for what they needed. They lit the campfire outside the waterfall, Ezran making several trips around the surrounding area for wood, and steadily started heating pot after pot of water to create something vaguely warm and usable in their makeshift basin.

Washing everything took a while. They each did a round of clothing first, and Callum had the opportunity to use his primal stone for the first time in days, setting some of it to drying faster. When there was something vaguely dry for everyone to change into, they took it in turns to wash themselves in the swiftly-cooling pool; Rayla went first, after briefly and grumpily soliciting his aid in getting her sweater and second shirt off. She went away after that, handling the rest of her layers alone.

“It’s really nice to not feel like I’m covered in blood anymore,” she announced upon returning, newly-clothed in the somewhat-dry things they’d just washed. Her hair was wet, reflecting the lights of the cavern even more than before. “Might want to put some fresh water in, though. It was getting pretty gross.”

It took a few more rounds of heated water, and a little more taking of turns, but eventually they’d washed just about everything they had that needed it, themselves included. The rest of the clothes they hung on various cavern trees to dry, and then, miraculously, they were pretty much done. Callum sat back down in the cave beside his brother, the sensation of cleanliness bizarrely foreign after days of accumulating grime.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Rayla asked him, as if noticing his bewilderment. There was a wry twist to her lips.

“It really does,” he agreed, clothes and skin and hair still damp, and weirdly pleasant for it. He’d got used to being grimy. It had just…sort of fallen into the background, a sensation beyond his notice. And while he wouldn’t say he was immaculately clean, not when all he’d had was a little bit of soap and a rag and an increasingly dirty pool of lukewarm water…he felt strangely lighter for having washed some of it off.

She smiled ruefully. “Yeah, travelling’s like that. I’d never really done anything long-haul before this mission, so I wasn’t used to how gross it gets.”

“I’m pretty used to getting covered in mud and dust and stuff. Me and Bait go exploring in the tunnels a lot, or in the forest,” Ez claimed, blinking slowly at the egg in his arms, newly retrieved from the bag. He’d taken a moment to wipe it over with a cloth too, and now was just…sitting with it. Looking suddenly bleary. “It’s…kinda different when you can’t just wash it off at the end of the day, though.”

“I’m going to remind you you said that, next time you complain about me telling you to wash up,” Callum informed him, and received a half-hearted snicker in response. He frowned at his brother, noting how abruptly out-of-it he looked. “Something wrong, Ez?”

Rayla looked over too, alerted by his concern. In short order they were both scrutinising Ezran, who looked…very tired. Considerably more tired than he had even five minutes ago. “Feeling sleepy?” she guessed, looking at him.

“…Zym’s asleep,” he admitted, after a moment. “He’s been sleeping some other parts of the day, too, but…I wasn’t holding him, then.”

“And you didn’t sleep well last night.” Rayla peered at him, frowning. “Maybe you should have a nap, or something.”

He blinked, looking startled. “Isn’t it kinda late for a nap? And…isn’t there stuff to do?”

Callum, who’d been about to suggest the nap himself, shook his head. “What, you think you’re not going to be tired enough to fall asleep later?” he asked, rhetorically. They were all tired enough to just about pass out they second they lay down, after all. “A nap isn’t going to go that far, Ez. And anyway, we’ve already washed everything, it’s fine.”

“But…dinner?” The objection was very faint. Rote, more than anything. He looked on the verge of dropping off already.

Silent, Rayla took the opportunity to drape Ezran’s cloak over him. Callum approved. “We’ll take care of dinner, Ez,” he said, voice gentling. “We’ll wake you when it’s time to eat, okay? You just…nap there with Zym.”

It was a little alarming, how quickly sleep took him. He’d barely been laid down, arms around the egg, when his eyes closed and he very plainly fell unconscious. Callum stroked a hand over his brow, frowning lightly, though he didn’t speak. He looked questioningly at Rayla, and she nodded towards the cave mouth, so they stood and quietly made their way out.

“It’s kind of worrying me,” Callum said, finally, when they were at the other end, behind the ice of the waterfall. “His…connection. To the egg. I just…” he sighed, following Rayla further out to where the fire still burned, growing sluggish from lack of attendance. She glanced at him, plainly listening, and knelt down to add another branch to the embers. “It was pretty terrifying, how he got during that storm,” he said in the end, softly. “And you saw how fast he just fell asleep. What if that happens while we’re walking? He could – he could get hurt.”

She hummed understandingly, and gestured him over, waiting until he sat down at her side. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” she told him, gentle but firm, and rested a hand on his wrist for a moment. “Make sure he doesn’t drop off a mountain if he does come down all narcoleptic.”

He nodded, wincing. ‘Falling off a mountain’ was about the size of what he was worried about. “Yeah. I’ll make sure he walks ahead of me, or something.” He paused for thought. “I guess we can always try to switch so one of us is carrying the egg instead? He seems a lot more affected when he’s close to it…maybe it would help to take it away?” Rayla eyed him for a moment, as if he’d said something unusual, and he frowned, trying to figure out why. “What?”

She shook her head, the corners of her lips twitching. “Nothing much. I was just thinking about how neither of you’d let me anywhere near the egg when we first left, and now…”

Callum blinked, and tried to remember. “That feels like so long ago, now.” His stomach dropped weirdly, in a sensation alike vertigo, as he recalled how much he hadn’t trusted her in those first days. “How long has it even been?”

Rayla frowned, and shrugged. “Dunno. Ten days since we left, maybe? Eleven?” Her eyes went distant, as though looking at something he couldn’t see. “Feels about right, from the Moon.”

He pursed his lips. “I’ll go get my sketchbook. I was keeping track of it a while back, I think…”

So he rose, walked back through the cave as quietly as he could manage in the dark, feeling his way along the rock walls to the magical glow of the cavern proper. He checked on Ez, finding him still solidly asleep, and then receded back out with his sketchbook and an armful of medical supplies. It was about that time of day, after all. Rayla was poking critically at the fire when he returned. “Might stake some of the meat, today,” she said as he sat down again. “There was a big bit that had kind of…unfrozen, so that’ll need cooking first.”

“Sounds good?” he offered, setting himself and his things down. He shivered a little; none of them had wrapped up as warmly as usual after washing, what with how temperate it was inside the cave, which meant he was cold now. He inched closer to the fire. “You want any help?”

“Nah, I’m good. You can draw, or something. You brought your book, right?” At her words, she looked over as though to check, and evidently noticed the other supplies he’d brought: bandages, a couple strips of willow bark, scissors, disinfectant, lilium. “…Oh.” Her hand went reflexively to her arm. She was only in a short-sleeved shirt, so he could see the bandages there, arrayed thickly beneath her fingertips. They looked damp, like she’d got them wet while she was washing.

“Needs to be done at some point,” he offered. “It can wait till later, though. But you should maybe have some painkillers now.”

She opened her mouth, glanced at the supplies, and frowned. “I…don’t know if I want to take the lilium again. At least, not today.”

Callum paused, looking at her. “…Because of addiction?” he guessed, and watched her shift uncomfortably.

“Suppose,” she said, noncommittal. “I can just take more willow bark. It’s…fine.” She threw another stick into the fire. She wasn’t looking at him, in a way that felt decidedly avoidant. He watched her for a few long moments, concerned, and she seemed to notice. Her shoulders hunched a little. Finally, she spoke again. “I just…don’t like how it makes me act,” she admitted, eyes still averted.

“…Fair enough, I guess.” Tentative, he shuffled a little closer, so he could see her better. “You know we don’t mind, right?”

She glanced at him, then; quickly, and then away again. There was a hint of a flush on her cheeks. “So you’ve said,” she muttered, sounding embarrassed, of all things.

He took a moment to think of why, and then actually remembered how she’d behaved the previous evening. She’d been…cuddly. And had seemed to have some very definite opinions on her medically-indicated hand massage. Right. “…Still true,” he managed, abruptly a little flustered himself. He hadn’t lied, though; it wasn’t a problem, how she’d acted. Not at all.

She looked at him again, from the corners of her eyes. “Ugh,” she grumbled to herself, and tossed another stick in. It crackled. “Just the same, I’ll stick with the bark, today.”

Callum nodded, a little dubious. He really didn’t want to pressure her into taking addictive, mind-altering drugs, but… “Has that…been working out okay? Through the day, I mean?”

Rayla lifted her arm a little, as though testing it, and grimaced. “Okay enough,” she said, seemingly annoyed at, presumably, her wounds’ continued insistence on being sore and swollen. She must have caught the way he frowned at her then, because she elaborated “It’s not as strong as the lilium. Still hurts when I move it. But it at least stops it aching as much.”

“…Have some more bark,” he suggested, and passed a piece over. She sighed, but agreeably put it in her mouth to chew. “I can change the bandages now? Kind of looks like you got them wet, so…”

“Probably not the best idea to let them sit, no,” she agreed begrudgingly, and waved him over to her left side. “Go on, then.”

So, with the increasing efficiency of practice, Callum set himself down beside her and unwound the old bandages, looking over the wounds carefully. As yesterday, there didn’t seem to have been much change. They were still lividly swollen, as from a fresh wound, and there hadn’t been any obvious healing on the surface at all. They still weren’t showing any signs of infection, at least; that was a mercy. “Well, they’ve not opened,” he offered optimistically, and reached out to daub around the edges with an edge of alcohol-doused cloth. “And they’re not infected.”

She winced a little at the touch, even as careful as he tried to be. Clearly, the willow bark wasn’t going very far. “Best we can hope for at the moment, I suppose.” He winced, and nodded.

He did his best to be gentle, he really did – but she had two great big jagged tears in her arm. There was only so much that ‘gentle’ really counted for, with wounds like this. She winced and flinched several more times through the procedure, and all he could do was murmur apologetically at her.

He cleaned everything and set the fresh bandages on, then peeled back her collar as politely as he could manage to get at the shoulder stab wound. That was still doing fine; it was a much cleaner injury, after all, and smaller too. And then there was just the wrist.

After a while with its bandage off, the sores there had gone hard and dark and dry, like old scabs. He felt at the edges of them, very carefully, noting where the binding was even now applying pressure. “How are these doing? Are they painful?”

Rayla shrugged, uncomfortable, and flexed the fingers of the hand. “Maybe a little? It’s…really not much, compared to everything else.” She twisted the wrist a little beneath his fingers, experimental. “It hurts where the binding is,” she said at last. “That’s mostly it.”

Healing, then. But very slowly. She’d said that was normal, for this part of the lunar cycle, but it still left him anxious. He tugged at her hand to bring it closer, inspecting the tiny blister that had formed on one of her fingers, what felt like so long ago now. It, too, hadn’t progressed very far. It looked similar to the wrist sores, if on considerably smaller scale. “It’s barely healed,” he muttered, unhappy.

“New Moon,” she said, by way of explanation.

He made a low noise, disconsolate, and stared at her hand as he held it. “At least your hand’s mostly okay now, I guess.”

She didn’t answer. When he looked up, she was staring at the her upturned palm, brows furrowed as though it were troubling her. She didn’t look like she agreed with his words at all.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, a little anxiously, eyes moving back to her hand. The colour seemed fine, but…was there something else? Something she hadn’t mentioned?

Rayla remained silent for a few long seconds, then said “It doesn’t hurt.”

He blinked, startled. “…Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Well, it’s nicer than pain, I suppose,” she said, still staring at her hand as though it were something alien and disturbing, rather than her own limb. She pulled it away from his grasp, and started pressing her own fingers into its palm, as though testing it. She turned it over, and ran her thumb lightly over the back, tracing her knuckles.

Callum watched, worried, as she poked and prodded along her fingers as though searching for something. Her expression was bleak, her shoulders tense. It took her a while to speak again.

“It doesn’t hurt, anymore, except maybe…tiny aches, and prickles, I guess.” She trailed fingertips lightly over one edge of her hand.  “So…that means it should be better, right?”

Slow, uneasy understanding dawned on him. “But it’s not?” He guessed, and shuffled closer, leaning to inspect her hand more closely.

Rayla flexed her fingers outwards until they trembled with visible effort; it took him a moment to figure out she was trying to straighten them. It…hadn’t worked, really. They were shaking as though strained beyond endurance, but remained somewhat bent. She clenched the fingers closed, well within his view, as though to demonstrate something…and the fist seemed looser than the amount of effort seemed to indicate.

She held the fingers straight again, or tried. The fingers shook badly, as if being forced beyond their capabilities, but still failed to extend properly. “I can’t straighten them out anymore,” she admitted, lowly. “I’ve been trying, but I just...can’t. And my grip is – not right. Weak. Before I thought it was just…recovering, you know? But now – it doesn’t hurt, but it’s still…” She didn’t finish, eyes dark as they rested upon her still-bound hand.

He’d noticed some of it, of course. The way she’d seemed to have difficulty with using the hand, the way its gestures had noticeable lagged during the sign language lesson today...he’d noticed. But she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. “…It hasn’t been that long, yet,” he pointed out, voice quiet to match her own, heart aching with sympathy. “Sometimes the deep stuff takes longer to heal. It could still get better.”

She made a noncommittal sound, and touched her fingers to the back of her hand again. “The skin feels weird, too,” she stated, not responding to his words, her eyes hooded. “Here, especially.” She traced a finger along the thumb side of the back of her hand, in a broad line along it and then up the first two fingers. “But the rest of the hand feels off in places too.”

He looked at it, and restrained the urge to reach out. “Off, how?” he wondered, and watched her press fingers against her own skin.

“Depends, really,” she said, and stroked along the back of the thumb, for a brief second. “Here, light touch is…it doesn’t feel right. Sort of itches, or prickles. If I press deeper, it feels a little bit numb.” She moved her fingers. “The rest of the back of my hand is weird with the light touch too. Firmer feels normal, but light...it’s weird.”

“…How long have you been noticing this?” he asked, uneasy, because there was a hint of practiced familiarity to how she laid out the symptoms. As if she’d chartered the strangeness in every inch of her skin, over and over, while he wasn’t there to see it.

She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Over the last couple days, I suppose. Since it’s been hurting less,” she said, turning her hand over. “It’s been easier to notice, since I’ve been using it more.” She hesitated. “I’ve…been trying not to think about it.”

Callum held quiet for a few long moments, thinking. He was familiar enough with medical principles to know that certain types of wound could have effects on the mobility and sensation in parts of the body, but…he didn’t know nearly enough of the specifics to understand what this meant. He didn’t know what was causing it, didn’t know if it could be made better, didn’t know anything. “I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on it?” he said, finally, reaching out for her hand after only a moment of hesitation. He took it between his own with a gentle familiarity, palm turned upwards, thumbs lingering on either side. “How’s the palm?” he asked, after a moment. “Is that prickly too?”

Rayla pursed her lips, watching him. “No, it feels mostly normal.” She admitted. “It’s not numb either.”

“Mostly the back of your hand that feels off?”

“Pretty much.”

He hummed, and wondered what that meant for the daily hand massages. Should he change anything? Be a little firmer on the back of her hand, maybe, to avoid setting off the prickling that seemed associated with lighter touch? “I wish I knew more about healing,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stall them. His shoulders hunched, and he glanced up to find Rayla’s eyes on his own.

“Can’t be helped,” she said, after a moment. “I wish I knew more about one-handed fighting. But I don’t. So.” She shrugged. “At the moment, I’d be pretty useless in a fight.”

“…More use than I’d be, anyway,” he muttered, somewhat distractedly, his gut unwilling to renounce the vague sense of guilt and self-recrimination. If he’d only learned more, that feeling said, he’d be able to help her. He could have done something different, would know what to do now…

Rayla shot him a sidelong look that seemed oddly penetrating, as though she knew precisely what he was thinking. She nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Stop beating yourself up over not knowing literally everything about healing,” she ordered him, words just a little gruff. “We had a deal, remember?”

He exhaled, and the breath felt a little shaky as it emerged. Some complicated emotion twisted in his gut: shame and gratitude conjoined. “Yeah,” he said, voice a little thicker. He glanced at her, hesitated, and shuffled just a little closer. Their shoulders brushed together, the pressure strangely reassuring. “…Thanks,” he said, more softly.

Her eyes lingered on him for a heartbeat longer, strangely intense, before she quickly looked away. She mumbled something indistinct that sounded vaguely like ‘you’re welcome’, eyes fixed forwards on the fire. Her fingers twitched in his hands, but she didn’t make any move to take her hand back. After a few moments…well, it just seemed sensible, given they were already there, for him to move his thumbs inwards and start pressing into her palm.

Rayla offered no objection. She just glanced down at their hands, then looked away again. She shifted, just a little, to move the arm more solidly across the front of his chest, fingers uncurling outwards from her palm. “It’s a little funny,” she said, after a moment, and he looked across at her to watch her as she spoke. “I started sleeping on my back because my hand hurt too much to sleep on. But now my hand’s stopped hurting, but I still have to sleep on my back. Because-“ she nodded towards her arm.

Callum considered that. “’Funny’ isn’t the word I’d use, probably,” he said, and she huffed, lips twitching.

“Funny in a depressing way, though.”

He was already thinking, though. He’d not known that her hand was why she slept on her back, but it made enough sense. Particularly after the fight with that tracker, when she’d gained the arm injuries as well as the abdominal bruising… “Couldn’t you just sleep on your right side?” he wondered, and blinked at the way she immediately barked out a laugh.

“If I did that, you’d probably slap me in the face twice a night,” she informed him, mirthfully.

His hands stilled on hers as he spluttered. “I’d – what?” Then, a second later, he remembered her previous comments about how active a sleeper he could be. “Oh.”

She held his gaze for a second, then ducked her head away, ears dropping. “And that’s if I was lucky,” she said, but now, abruptly, she sounded a little embarrassed. There was a hint of colour in her cheeks. He wasn’t sure he had the courage to ask.

“…I’m still an annoying tent-mate, huh,” he deduced, a little morosely, and wondered how badly he tended to keep her awake. She didn’t need that on top of everything else. “We can change places? I think Ezran mostly just hugs Bait or the egg when he sleeps now, so he probably doesn’t move too much…”

Rayla was quiet for long enough that he started to fret, particularly with how she was still determinedly avoiding meeting his eyes. “…No, it’s fine,” she said, eventually, a note of something odd in her voice. “Honestly, I think I’m getting used to it. I’ve hardly woken up in the middle of the night at all, lately. And when I do it’s because Ezran wakes up, not because of you.” She shrugged, trying for nonchalant and failing. He eyed her.

“If you say so,” he accepted, albeit dubiously. “I can swap with Ez, you know? If it’d help-“

“It’s fine,” she repeated, now with a distinct spot of colour on either cheek. She shook her hand aggressively at him, reminding him that he still had it and was supposed to be doing something. “Just – get on with this, would you? We need to get the food cooked.”

Callum huffed, said “Yes, ma’am,” and did as he was told. He pressed his thumbs into her palm, wondering if it hurt at all without the lilium. She’d said it still ached a little, right? He glanced at her furtively as he worked. She…wasn’t flinching, or wincing, and didn’t seem to be in pain. She did seem a little embarrassed, still. She was sat closely enough that he could literally feel the way her shoulders were hunched.

It didn’t last, though. After a minute or two, she slumped against his side, sighing. She still wasn’t looking at him, but…she wasn’t so tense anymore, either.

It wasn’t quite like the evening before, where she’d been so down in the marshes as to cuddle up without a care in the world, admitting things that she probably never would have uttered sober. She was self-conscious, he thought; like he’d been self-conscious last time, like he still was now. But this time she was fully in her right mind, and was sitting with him like this anyway. He liked it a lot better.

She looked at him, once; there and then quickly away again, as though checking his reaction. Then she mumbled something indistinct to herself, vaguely embarrassed-sounding, and settled a little more. She sighed again, and very slowly, started to relax. He could feel it in the ebbing of tension in her, could see it in how her eyes went half-lidded as she stared into the fire, watching the flames as they flickered and danced. He wondered at it a little, but…she had seemed to find this very relaxing, the other times she’d not been in pain from it. Maybe that applied now, too, even without the lilium.

Callum sat there with her hand in his, her form solid and reassuring against his side, and started to get a new, quiet sense of calm from it. Before, he’d always been too occupied with how much pain she was in, or how embarrassing the situation was. Now, though, he thought he was getting used to the whole thing. It was technically a subset of wound care, so it felt weird to actually find it nice, but…well, that was probably better than being awkward about it forever.

Rayla stayed there unmoving through all the quiet minutes of his working, and seemed a great deal calmer by the time he finished. When he glanced over, she looked…comfortable. Not half-asleep, as under the influence of lilium, but calm.

He let the quiet sit for a little longer, not quite wanting to speak. Eventually, very gently, he nudged her. “Alright?”

Rayla blinked, as though realising he’d finished, then looked across at him. A hint of colour rose in her cheeks. “…Yeah,” she spoke, soft. “Thanks.” For a moment, her fingers curled around his own. A tentative smile ghosted over her lips.

Some strange, light emotion fluttered in his chest.

Then she took her hand back, tugging it gently away. She didn’t move beyond that, at first; just looked at him, eyes lingering on his. Then she sighed, and sat up, the warmth and solidity of her vanishing from his side. “Time to get the food started, I think,” she said, still quiet, as though reluctant to break the calm that had settled over them, and started to shuffle closer to the fire.

He nodded, cleared his throat, and looked around. “Anything I can go get?”

She inspected the items around the fire: a stack of firewood nearby, the iron pot with the defrosted meat in it, and one of her swords. She shook her head. “Nah. I’ve got everything, thanks.” Again, she shot a smile his way. “Weren’t you going to figure out how long we’d been travelling, or something?”

Callum blinked. “Er, yeah, I was,” he admitted, rueful, and sat up to stretch a little, shoulders clicking. “I forgot.”

“You do that, then.” Without further ado, she set about cutting the meat and spearing the pieces on an array of sticks, arranging them carefully around the fire. She remained a lot calmer-looking than she had earlier; relaxed and loose-limbed in a way he hadn’t really seen outside of the influence of lilium. It was…nice.

He smiled to himself, oddly pleased, and reached for his sketchbook. He’d been keeping track of the days on a loose page tucked in at the back; he peeled it out, readying his charcoal, and inspected it. It hadn’t been very thorough, barely more than a tally. He considered it for a while, and finally, in script as small as he could manage, started trying to count back the days. He added a little note for each one: waterfall cave for today, left thundersnow cave for yesterday, and so on. With a little twist of grief, he oriented learned about Harrow onto the page, and then a note for the day before, and before that, and before that…

“The full moon was on the night of the twelfth,” he said to her, finally, when he was done. “So we started travelling on the thirteenth. It’s been twelve days since we left the castle.”

She looked up from the fire, blinking. “Feels like longer. But yeah, seems right.” She shuffled over to look at his notes, tilting her head to read. He’d noted the day she’d first had the binding loosened, and the day she’d been injured by the soldier; her eyes lingered on those for a while. “Probably a good idea, to keep track of things like that,” she said at last.

“Yeah. It might be important, if we ever find a proper doctor or healer for you to see.”

Rayla snorted. “Fat chance of that, in the middle of Katolis.”

“We won’t be in Katolis forever,” he reasoned. “And in Xadia – you have to have magic healing, right? If nothing else, someone over there should be able to figure out how to get your binding off.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” She lifted her wrist, staring at the binding. “Never heard of one of these being broken, though. Not sure how it works.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, determined. “Somehow.”

Rayla’s lips turned up at the edges. “I hope so. Can’t exactly keep Ez and his dragon loosening the thing for the rest of my life.”

Callum winced, a thought occurring to him. “And there’s another good reason he can’t just go back to Katolis and be King right now,” he muttered, chagrined. “Pretty sure Azymondias can’t do the binding on his own. You’d lose your hand.”

She blinked. “I…didn’t actually think of that.”

He hadn’t, either. With this holding pattern of loosening it, again and again…it was easy to forget that her hand wasn’t safe, yet. If anything changed, if Ezran’s trick stopped working…she could still end up losing it. She was already starting to have to face how much damage had already been done, but – that wasn’t necessarily the end of it. As long as the binding was there, she was still in danger. “…We’ll figure something out,” he repeated, as much to himself as to her. She grimaced, but didn’t reply, and he cast about for a change of subject. “You said new moon is in a few days, right?”

Rayla grimaced even more at that, expression sour. “Yeah. I can already feel it coming on.”

Carefully, he wrote out the dates for the next few days. “Do you know exactly what day it’ll be?”

She paused for a moment, as though consulting her magic lunar-sense. “Not the day after tomorrow, but the one after that.”

He noted it in. He had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t going to be a good day, and thought it might bear planning for. “At least we’ve probably got enough meat for a while. You won’t need to go hunting.”

“Yeah, we’re not going to run out of that in a hurry,” she agreed. “Still got loads. It’s something, I suppose. And on that note-“ she turned back to the fire, checking on the cooking. Already the smell of roasting meat was making his stomach growl.

She attended to the cooking, and after watching for a while, Callum returned to his book. He noted down a few more things in the makeshift travel-log, then set it back into the pages, folded. He flipped through the other loose sheets, finding Draconic vocabulary, his rough map, a sketch of some noteworthy rooms in the Banther lodge; mementoes from earlier in their journey. It felt so distant. He wondered how he’d feel in a month, or two, or three. It would take that long to get the egg home, wouldn’t it? Getting to Xadia was only the start.

Already it felt like his entire world had changed, and two weeks ago seemed almost a dream of a past life. What else would change? Would he think on today in a week or two, and feel like it had been an age ago?

He sighed, and turned the page to the front. Nostalgic, and a little homesick, he started to flick through. He lingered for a long time on the drawings of Harrow, grief twisting in his chest. And then he flipped onwards again.

Finally he was to an empty page, and he remembered where he was. Even now, he was sitting beside an entire magnificent frozen waterfall, at the mouth of a cave that held a little refuge of magic in its belly. There was plenty to draw. Plenty that wasn’t depressing. So, determinedly, he set his charcoal to paper, and made a start.

He’d made a respectable sketch of the waterfall and its surroundings by the time Rayla deemed the food ready, and put the pot back on the fire to boil some water. In went a few handfuls of pine needles, and away went Callum’s sketchbook. They brought everything back inside the cave when it was done, settling near Ezran and coaxing him awake.

“Ughhh,” Ez offered, groggy and grumpy as Callum tugged him upright. “I – what…?”

“Dinner, Ez,” Callum said to him, sympathetic, and coaxed him into putting the egg down on the mossy stone. That seemed to help; a hint of alertness returned to his brother’s eyes, and he blinked at the pot with sudden recognition.

“Oh.” With some difficulty, he seemed to pull himself awake, wiping a hand over his face. “Right. Bait?” he called for the toad, who was off in the cave somewhere. “Do you want food?” A croak echoed back from somewhere behind a tree, and Ezran nodded. “He’s fine, he’s been eating bugs,” Ez explained to them, shuffling lethargically over. “Can I just…eat and go back to sleep? I’m so tired…”

“That’s fine, Ez,” Rayla said, and passed him a jar. He accepted it, and stared at it with consternation for over ten seconds before he seemed to realise what it was.

“Tea?” he questioned, plaintively.

“Sadly, yes,” she nodded. “Drink up. The sooner you do it the sooner it’ll be over.”

Callum rolled his eyes, a little amused by how much they both seemed to disdain it, and waited patiently for Ezran to finish with the jar so that he could take custody of it. He sipped his with quiet enjoyment while they ate, then got a refill, and slowly depleted it while working through his own dinner portion.

He ate more than he’d have expected to manage, in the end. Meat really wasn’t that filling on its own; or at least, not in a way that lasted. He wondered if they’d be able to start finding more wild edible plants again, once they descended far enough for there to not be snow and ice on everything.

“I’m getting kinda sick of just meat,” Ezran mumbled, groggy and ill-tempered with it, evidently having similar objections as Callum. “It’s just the same thing, every day…”

“Travel’s like that,” Rayla said, shrugging. “It sucks, but unless you find stuff along the way, or can supply in towns…”

“What did you do?” Callum asked, curious. “Your…team. When you were travelling. You wouldn’t have been able to carry that much food, right?”

She looked briefly nonplussed, and then a little uncomfortable. She averted her eyes. “Well, we had…nutrient pills, and stuff,” she said, after a moment. “It didn’t go really far, but it at least meant we weren’t missing out on anything important if we did just eat meat. And we had some packets of seasoning and the like, so it wasn’t as boring.”

He inspected her, tilting his head. “So you’ve been eating mostly meat for like, months now.”

“I got sick of it a long time ago,” she agreed, expression sour. “Now it’s just sort of…fuel. I really miss proper food.”

“I already miss proper food,” Ezran sighed.

Callum looked between them, and his lips twitched. “…Would this be a good time to do that sign-language practice about our favourite foods?”

They both shot him disgusted looks. “No,” Rayla said, grumpily. “I had enough of missing Moonberries earlier, thanks.”

“Aw, come on, it’ll be fun,” he wheedled, and after a little more cajoling did actually manage to get a little practice going. It had the foreseen consequence of making them all hungry again, so they actually ended up eating almost everything they’d cooked for once. Rayla approved of that, at least; apparently none of them were really eating enough to support themselves on a meat-only diet, and she was getting a bit concerned about it.

“I’m thinking of cooking up a lot more tomorrow night, so we can just sort of start snacking as we walk,” she confided, when they were putting the pot away and filling up their waterskins for the night. “We’re never hungry enough when we stop for breaks. All the exercise, you know.”

“Probably a good idea,” Callum said, though his stomach rebelled at the thought of eating during exertion. “I never really feel full. Even when I stop eating…I don’t know, it feels like I just can’t eat anymore, instead of actually having enough?”

She looked troubled. “Yeah. It’s not great.”

“Maybe we can get some bread or something, when we get to Greatport,” Ezran mumbled, trailing along sluggishly at their heels. He hadn’t become significantly more alert over the evening, and had stumbled through the sign language as though half asleep. “That would be nice.”

Callum didn’t point out that Greatport was probably a good two weeks away, or that they lacked money of any kind. He supposed he could…try to sell something? Or trade? He wasn’t sure what he could sell that they didn’t need, though. “It would,” he agreed, instead of voicing any of his thoughts, and ushered Ezran gently back into the cave.

In the end, he settled his brother in the thick moss beneath one of the cave-growing trees, egg situated a careful distance away.

“I know you like to keep him close,” Callum said to him, laying the cloak over him like a blanket. “But it’s probably going to make it harder for you to sleep, if he does wake up in the night again. We’re not in the tent, there’s tons of room, so just…leave him there, okay?”

Ezran sighed. “Yeah, okay,” he blinked up at him, drowsy, and blinked as Callum settled the cloak on. “You gonna tuck me in?” It was a joke; it had been a good long while since Ezran had wanted tucking in at night. But Callum paused, nostalgia stirring in his chest, and leaned over to do precisely that, tucking in the cloak around his sides.

“Comfy?” he asked, leaning back as Bait shuffled over and insinuated himself under Ezran’s arm.

He smiled, small and sleepy, and hunkered down under his cloak with a sigh. “Mmhm,” he agreed, and then closed his eyes. Barely seconds later, his breath started to settle out into a familiar rhythm; already asleep.

“…He drops off fast,” Rayla said, very quietly, from where she’d been watching. Her eyes were soft when he turned to face her, and just a little sad. He wondered what she was thinking about.

“A lot of the time, yeah.” He gave his brother a last glance, then went over to settle where he’d left his bag. Rayla followed, sitting down beside him as he rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling his exhaustion. His legs were sore from all the climbing, his toes hurt from the descending, and he was just…tired. “…How late is it?” He couldn’t really tell, inside the cave. He’d been outside only a little bit ago, though, and it had been almost fully dark.

Rayla paused in that increasingly-familiar way, consulting a sense that was utterly foreign to him. “Not too late, yet,” she said, finally. “Maybe eight?”

He considered that. “I’ll go to sleep soon, I think,” he decided. “I’m…really tired.” He paused.

“But not yet?” she guessed, looking at him. He looked back, for a long moment. In the soft glow of the cavern, she looked…she was just…

He averted his eyes. “Not yet,” he agreed. “I want to draw a little more, if there’s time.”

“There’s time.” She blinked at him, eyes luminescing gently, and shuffled closer. Callum opened his sketchbook and hesitated for a long while, exhaling softly, nudging his artist’s mind away from the way it seemed to want to fixate on the light flickering on the edge of her face. He turned to the waterfall sketch, and kept drawing.

Rayla glanced at him, and when he didn’t object, settled in to watch. They didn’t speak for the rest of the evening, sitting in companionable quiet, until at last Callum’s exhaustion got the better of him and he put the book away.

Even with the whole cavern available to them, Callum settled only a metre or so from Ezran; in turn, Rayla settled a similar distance from him. Close enough to smile at him as she pulled her cloak over herself and nestled on her front into the moss, and to mumble a good-night as her eyes closed.

He echoed it, already half-gone, but…glad, in a way he couldn’t quite put to words, to have her nearby.

In the warm quiet of the cave, sleep came quickly; his dreams spun images of light and moon-moths all through the night.

 ---

 The window was large, and wreathed in a cage of tightly-packed metal bars.

Runaan had assessed it as an avenue of escape when he first saw it, but more as a matter of instinct than of anything else. He was in no condition to stage an escape attempt, even if his captors had been more lax with their restraints and security. The bars were solid, and deeply embedded within the stone walls; even with how recently they’d evidently been placed, it was too much for him to pull out as he was now. Were he at his best, he would be stronger and faster than any human his size, but even that would do him little good against quality metal like those bars, or the restraints wreathed around his surviving limbs.

So, there would be no escape through that window. But he found himself pathetically grateful for its presence, anyway.

There was nothing of interest to be seen through it. The window opened out into some sort of courtyard, his location evidently high up enough that he couldn’t see any of the movements of the people within. Instead, he had an uninspiring view of the castle and its dark windows, and a decent strip of sky above it. A sky that offered light.

An hour after he’d been moved here, a well-ornamented Katolian soldier had entered the room, flanked by two adjuncts, the dark-clothed observer waiting behind. With a stiff posture and cold eyes that spoke very well of her animosity, she’d read to him the letter of the Millennium War Crimes Accords, a piece of legislation that he, as a prisoner of war, was legally entitled to the knowledge of. Within that knowledge had emerged the reason that he’d been permitted a cell with a window. The Pentarchy, it seemed, knew a little more about the weaknesses of Moonshadow elves than he was entirely comfortable with.

Despite it all, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret the presence of the window. Even if that lack did signify weakness.

Daylight was harsh against eyes that had spent so long in the dark, but welcome even so. Moonlight, though…

He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it – how much he’d weakened in its absence – until the waning Moon rose, and cast moonshadows from the bars on the window that filtered onto his skin. It had felt like an awakening – or like coming alive. In that moment, heedless of all the years he’d spent training, the years he’d spent uttering the creeds, a part of him had stirred and opened and yearned for life; even though he was already dead.

A few days. A few days more without moonlight, and he would be dead. The agony in his body and rasp in his lungs was stark testament to that. But already, the livid swelling on the stump of his left arm seemed cooler. Already, he was breathing easier. A few days more, and it would have been over. But now…

Strength and energy and vivacity filtered into his blood via the touch of the light through the window, and he was helpless to do anything but adore it, as must any creature who owes its magic to the Moon. He sighed, the exhalation shaky with relief, and could not help but feel the shame of the weakness.

I am already dead, he reminded himself. But…

It was deceptively hard to believe, with moonlight on his skin.

His eyes fell on the dim shape the moonlight cast through the window, with its bar-slatted shadows and the gentle shading of the near-New Moon. His impulses warred with him, and he did not know that he had the fortitude to resist them for long.

The length of his chains allowed him to move about the cell. They were heavy with weights, and fastened firm to the walls, but he could stand. He could walk, if only two paces in either direction. He could choose to sit in the slatted square of light cast on the floor in front of the window, and bask in the moonlight. If he were stronger, he might have been able to resist that call. Might have been able to stay to the shadows, and let the absence of the Moon chase a little more vitality from his body with every passing moment. If he were stronger.

But he was not so strong. The moonlight called to him, and weakened and diminished as he was, he was powerless to resist it.

So it was that Runaan settled in the Moon’s path with a metallic clatter of chains on stone, and stayed there for hours, trembling incessantly with the relief of the light. It was a testament to the days spent caged away from it that even the light of a near-dark Moon could affect him so, when usually this stage of darkness would have been chasing strength from his body. It drifted across the sky, the angle of the light upon the stone floor shifting, and he moved with it, turning to follow its path like a puppet on a string. He could no more have ignored that pull than he could have willed his blood to stop flowing. So he followed the Moon across the floor of the cell, mind gone mercifully quiet behind the soul-deep benediction of the light.

Until, a few hours from dawn, something strange flashed in the gloom.

His eyes, held half-lidded to behold the moonlight through the bars on the window, snapped fully open. His mind came awake as though pushing through fog, following that hint of strangeness, of movement; a conditioned response that had been stamped and fastened into him through year after year of his work. He stared, unerring and alert, waiting.

Another flash of light.

This time, he was looking for it, so his eyes sharpened quickly upon it: someone, in a window loosely opposite and to the left of his own, across the courtyard, was flashing light in this direction upon a reflective surface. Probably a small, hand-held mirror. Runaan watched, eyes tracking the light with more intensity and focus than he’d managed to muster since the first few days of his privations.

Humans wouldn’t have been able to pick up on signals as dim as this. Even most other elves wouldn’t see it. Their eyes were too blind to the moonlight. The differences in light levels would be too small for them to see these flashing reflections of the light of a waning Moon; perhaps they’d notice something, but not enough. Not nearly enough. But Runaan was Moonshadow. He could hardly fail to notice this.

The light flashed every ten seconds for the next two minutes, a standard opening to any coded transmission. His heart, though still weak and laboured, beat a little faster as he watched and waited. Then, finally, the light shifted to the shorter, more precise signals he knew. He watched them avidly, decoding it as it passed, and any chance of this not being the work of a Xadian operative passed into extinction.

Ave, sicarius, said the coded light, in the standard ancient Draconic, and he felt his breath escape him. ‘Hail, assassin.’

He’d have closed his eyes to brace himself against how powerfully those words affected him, but he needed to watch for the message. He felt himself trembling, felt his heart racing enough to make him dizzy in his diminished state, but kept watching.

The code came through entirely in that same Draconic, as was usual for communications between mixed forces covert operatives deep in enemy territory. Codes could and would be compromised, but very few humans had enough knowledge of Draconic to interpret such messages, even if they were capable of reading the moonlight, and capable of interpreting the code. It was secure, after a fashion.

Hail, assassin, said the message, in the usual abbreviated shorthand of ictus. I am watching. I am reporting. Take no drastic measures. Xadia wishes you home. Abide, and await further word.

He had nothing in the cell that he could possibly use to reply, over this sort of distance. No mirror, no candle-flame; and the metal of the chains was dull enough that it wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of reflective that he’d need. But….

With considerable effort, he stretched his foot across the cell far enough to retrieve the tray his evening meal had been given upon. It had been nothing but gruel in a bowl, and of course he’d ignored it, shoving it away across the cell in rejection along with the medicines he’d disdained, but now…now, he picked up the still-full bowl with his only remaining hand, fingers dipping into the gruel from the awkward angle, and set it carefully aside. Then, shifting his grip several times to get the proper leverage, he raised the tray.

The coded light was going through its second repetition of the message by the time he reached the bars, and raised the tray with his trembling hand to hit it against the bars. The noise was raucous and rang painfully in his ears, shrieking out through his skull as though to amplify every dull ache and sharp pain his skull had to offer – but it was necessary. The flashes of light stopped instantly as he rose against the window, and stayed gone while he shakily clanged out his response, in the same code. Noise was indiscreet, and would certainly invite investigation from the guards outside, so – he had to be quick.

AG, he spelled out with that sound, as hastily as he could. The signal for agnosco; ‘I acknowledge.’

He sat down as quickly as he could when the keys rattled in the cell door, pulling the bowl of cold gruel to his side. He painted his features with a scowl as the guards entered, bodies tense and hands at the swords on their sides. Their eyes ran over him, over his chains, over the state of the cell…and then they settled a little, though their features were tight and hard.

“What was that noise in aid of?” One of them, the man, demanded.

Runaan, of course, remained silent. He sneered contemptuously at the both of them, and maintained the expression until the man uttered an irritated tch and turned away.

“Of course you choose now to be silent,” he muttered, voice wearing the same contempt as Runaan’s face. His fellow nudged him, a friendly and supportive gesture, though her posture and expression remained coldly professional.

“Leave it,” she said, and offered Runaan a last cold glance as she ushered herself and her companion out of the cell. The heavy reinforced door was locked and bolted again, and he heard them muttering beyond it: “The hunger must have finally got the better of him,” the woman was saying, as they retreated a little way down the hall to their customary posts. “He had the bowl he threw away earlier, did you see? The noise was likely just him retrieving the tray.”

“Seemed a bit too much noise for just pulling a tray towards him.”

“Then maybe he was being spiteful. Either way, just add it to the report. If it becomes a habit…well, we’ll talk about it then.”

Runaan quietly acknowledged the words just as the other guard did. He couldn’t make a habit of sending ictusian code by noise, then. But it had been worth it this time, to tell the spy that he was watching. And, at least, in the absence of any scheduled meetings between himself and guards or healers…the code-breaker was not here to notice that someone had contacted him. That was good.

He listened, wary and guarded, for any sign that the guards were going to return. When there was nothing, he lowered his eyes to the cold slop in the bowl he held, brows lightly furrowed. His only meals these last weeks had been force-fed. He had accepted no medical aid that had not been administered by force, and the medicines the human healer woman had left were still sat tidily in their glass bottles to his side. Without sufficient feeding, and without the medicine…even the moonlight would not save him, soon. He had been counting on it.

It had been his duty as a captive, as a Moonshadow assassin, to die without giving the enemy anything of worth to use. This deep in enemy territory, it was standard procedure to consider oneself lost if captured, and hasten towards an honourable death through every reasonable measure. It was his failing that he had not succeeded yet.

But the message changed things. There was an operative here in Katolis – though whether a transient, a stray entrenched operative, or the more likely deep-cover agent, he had no way of knowing. But they were here. They were watching. They were reporting. Xadia had commanded him to live.

For the first time since his capture, Runaan allowed himself to consider the idea of returning home.

A face flashed in his mind and his heart at once; the pang was physically painful, and he closed his eyes to breathe past it. In the next second he thought of Rayla, and his heart clenched anew. Where was she, now? Had she managed to evade the General? Was she still on her way home…or was she lost, when he had only now gained the hope of being found?

He had no way of knowing, unless the agent deigned to risk themself sending him news. But…

Xadia had commanded him to live.

I am not dead yet, he thought, with a strange rush of energy. Hope, and fear, all at once.

He raised the bowl to his lips, and drank.

  ---

End chapter.

Chapter Notes:  https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1OGBo7nKVDIfWjhxGe90fwaS3lP0IfQJ3?usp=sharing

Link to PIAJ chapter notes folder (Google Drive folder including worldbuilding, commentary, medical notes, research notes, and misc notes for all applicable chapters within this section)

This chapter's notes cover: author’s notes on various scenes in this chapter, dark magic tracking spells, minor worldbuilding notes, and extended commentary on The Runaan Scene.

Timeline: https://docs.google.com/document/d/107eD8zmLAAFBWSOgsLyl8g4pAdQF4EgMh4rpN_m91U4/edit?usp=sharing Link to PIAJ Timeline Google doc ( to be updated as story progresses)

PIAJ Masterpage: https://tenspontaneite.tumblr.com/piaj Link to PIAJ Masterpage on tumblr (containing links to chapters, meta, art, Q&As, and resources) (Link may not work properly on mobile/app)

Author Notes:

God, I can’t believe I finally got to a Key Scene. I’m so proud.

There’s a much higher than average proportion of Really Old Scenes in this chapter. The frozen waterfall, glowy cave (first bit), and Key Runaan Scene were all written in 2019, I believe. Some of the cave scene could’ve been 2020 though, but not all. They were all edited of course, but it was nice to be able to give these scenes the light of day, metaphorically speaking, at last. Extended notes on these scenes, particularly the Runaan one, can be found in the chapter notes document.

A good chunk of chapter 25 is already written. I’d say it’s maybe 40-50% done? Not sure how long that’ll take, but either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Comments, as always, are appreciated.

(PS I might not update the timeline or the tumblr masterpage tonight as I’m very tired and it’s late)

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥The Angelus Mortis (2/2)🔥

A/N: Here is part 2 of “The Angelus Mortis”! Part 1 is linked below if you haven’t read that part yet. Thank you for reading!

Part 1

~~~

The next day, Erwin woke up early to visit (Y/N) one last time before he had to hand her over to the MP’s. He sighed in disappointment. He thought he had been getting through to her, especially after she had given him her name, but he was left with nothing but false hope when she remained adamant about not answering any of his questions. He ran one of his large hands through his blonde locks in frustration as he made his way down the stone steps into the gloomy dungeon below.

He had no idea why he felt so conflicted when it came to this woman, why he had a feeling she was a better person than she was letting on. His heart battled with his brain as he walked, causing him to groan when he felt a headache begin to form. Why did he feel like he was missing something? Something important? He knew she would be a valuable asset to the Survey Corps if she cooperated, her strength rivaling that of Levi’s which would give them two vital weapons on the field. And he was sure that under Levi’s supervision she would flourish, maybe even develop a friendship with the sullen man. Maybe that’s why he felt so strange, because it was a missed opportunity?

Erwin shook his head as he finally rounded the corner, pushing away his inner turmoil to mull over on a later date. Immediately upon his arrival, (Y/N) rolled over on the small, filthy cot she had been provided, and met his gaze.

“Here to collect me, already?” (Y/N) asked, her disdain barely veiled by her attempt at a quip.

“No, not yet,” Erwin said as he sat down in the lone metal chair he had used the day before.

(Y/N) sat up slowly and crossed her legs, resting her hands in her lap as she turned to face him completely.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Well, you have spent one whole day here and you’ve been alone for most of that time. I came down here to see if you’re ready to answer my questions now.”

(Y/N) grit her teeth. “I told you, I don’t want to answer any of your shitty questions.”

“What’s the point? You’re going to be heading right for your very painful death in just a few hours, what is keeping you from parting with some information that will likely be unimportant soon anyway?”

“Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean I have to justify my life, to you of all people.”

“I only want to help you, this could save your life.”

“Why the hell do you care so much about me anyway? What am I to you? Do you want me for something? Maybe for your own personal desires?” (Y/N) suddenly bristled. “I didn’t take you as someone who would stoop so low, Commander, but what did I expect? I guess that’s what I get for thinking a murderer could show empathy. And to think, I almost learned to trust you a little.”

Erwin blanched, his face paling and his eyes widening.

“What?” He asked in utter shock. A murderer? What the hell was she going on about?

(Y/N) seethed at him and turned away, her entire body tensed and angry.

“Do whatever the hell you want with me,” (Y/N) said in a low voice. “Beat me, kill me, fuck me, do whatever you want, but I’ll never tell you anything.”

Erwin was quiet for a minute as he fought to process what he had just heard. A killer? Him? He only killed when he really needed to, aside from when he was fighting titans, of course, but he rarely used his weapons on a person, and never with malicious intent.

“What makes you think I’m a murderer?” Erwin asked.

(Y/N) suddenly whirled on him, her teeth bared, showing more of the wolf inside her that she had developed in the Underground. Her eyes flashed with fury and her fists clenched at her sides as she lost control.

“How dare you ask me that question,” (Y/N) snarled. “How dare you after what you took from me? Do you not even remember? Were they really that meaningless to you? You took away my family, the only positive thing I had in this world. You ripped them from me and now you dare ask how you have wronged?”

Erwin was bewildered now but he tried not to let it show on his face. He had to tread carefully. If he didn’t say the right thing, she might end up shutting down completely, and then he would lose any chance of keeping her from getting killed. He also wanted to keep her from hating him. If she was going to join the Corps, he would have to be able to lead his men without fearing for his life every time she was around.

“Did… did they live in the Underground with you?” Erwin asked carefully.

(Y/N) plopped down on her bed, rage still coursing through her veins as she looked at the man she had loathed ever since the fateful day her family had disappeared from her life, but she felt too tired to argue with him. He had won anyway, she was going to be tortured, maybe violated, killed, and then dumped in a trash can somewhere, left to die alone and forgotten. There was no point in trying to fight him anymore, not when he held the strings attached to her back, commanding the show and forcing her to dance. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her break, but she knew her fate was sealed the moment she was brought up from the Underground. “Yes,” she said in a small voice, her head hanging low so that her hair covered her eyes.

“Are they the reason why you asked for my name in the Underground? Why you hesitated when you saw my face?”

(Y/N) only nodded.

“Are they why you targeted soldiers? To make us feel the pain you did when you found out they were gone?”

(Y/N) nodded again, more slowly this time and with a single glimmering tear that slid down her cheek and hit the stone floor with a barely audible tap.

Erwin hesitated again and swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry… for your loss.”

(Y/N) scoffed at him, her eyes filled with a smouldering hatred as she met his gaze.

Erwin cringed a little. He knew how apathetic that apology must have sounded, but he was at a loss for words. He just had to keep trying.

“I mean it. If I am responsible for their deaths then it must mean they died in combat, under my command. So, I am sorry for not being able to lead them properly. For not being able to protect them and bring them back home to you. I am so sorry…”

(Y/N) didn’t respond but he did notice that her gaze softened just slightly at his apology. He was starting to get through to her again. He knew that her acceptance of his apology was just a chink in the protective walls surrounding her broken heart, but he would take whatever he could get.

That was when Erwin suddenly realized something, the image of two faces flashing in his mind as he thought about what she had said. There had only been three people he had ever brought up from the Underground to be in the Survey Corps, and only two of them were dead. Farlan and Isabel.

Thinking back on it, Levi had never mentioned anyone other than Isabel and Farlan, and when he had been busted and brought to the surface he had only come with his two friends. Maybe they had never met. Maybe (Y/N) only knew Farlan and Isabel from her childhood and early adulthood while Levi was a mere business partner. Or maybe they did know each other but only through brief business interactions.

His heart jumped a little in his chest when he realized he was on to something. Maybe he could show her to Levi and see what his reaction would be? See if he would be the key to having her cooperate? Besides, it might be good for them, the both of them having lost their two best friends in a horrific manner, giving them the chance to form a bond or close friendship. It might even give Levi some closure. Erwin would be a bad friend if he hadn’t noticed how the loss of Levi’s past friends were still affecting him.

“How… how did they die?”

(Y/N)’s sudden question surprised him but he quickly brought himself back to the moment, not wanting to scare her away from talking to him again. He honestly couldn’t believe this was the same woman who had been bantering back and forth with him the day before, but he now realized she had been using it as a means of protecting herself. To make herself seem more confident in the face of the one person she supposedly hated the most. She had entertained him so he would stop digging, stop trying to dredge up old, painful memories.

“We were on an expedition outside of the walls and it started to storm. We tried to retreat but the rain and open meadows made it difficult to find our way back. Everything looked the same, blurry and gray or green. In the confusion, an abnormal titan snuck up on us and killed the majority of our troops, your family among them.”

(Y/N) was quiet but met his gaze again, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She looked so vulnerable at that moment. He could tell she still had that fighting spirit, that unwavering strength; the vulnerability did not make her look weak or pitiable in the slightest. It just made her look more… human.

“What happened to the titan?” She asked.

“One of my Captains, Levi, took care of it.”

(Y/N)’s head suddenly jolted up, her entire body going rigid. “Wha-”

“Erwin!” The Commander turned around to see Hanji standing on the stone steps leading down to the dungeon, clutching a lantern in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other.

Erwin stood and met his girlfriend on the steps, taking the manacles from her. Hanji gazed at him for a minute before her gaze shifted to the woman in the cell. Erwin could tell right away that Hanji felt something similar about the mysterious assassin, that she had the strange feeling that there was something more to her like he did. He could see it in her eyes, in the way they shone even in the darkness of the dungeon.

“Time to go,” Hanji said softly.

Erwin nodded and made his way to the cell, Hanji following close behind with a sword in her grasp, ready to cut the woman down should she try anything.

When Erwin moved to stand behind her, leaning down to lock her wrists into the handcuffs, (Y/N) hung her head again, her mind still spinning with the name that had fallen from the Commander’s lips. 

It was a name she hadn’t heard in years, a name that still haunted her dreams and left her feeling cold and alone. There was no way it was really him. Levi was a common enough name that the Captain could be anyone. Despite this, the fact that there was a chance he was really out there, gave (Y/N) peace of mind. 

If he was dead, then she guessed she was going to see him soon, maybe finally live the life they wanted to, if that was even possible after death. If he was alive, then that would still be satisfactory enough for her. Either way, she hoped she’d get to see him again soon. Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad.

“Commander Erwin,” (Y/N) said.

“Yes?” Erwin said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice when she said his real name rather than mocking his title of Commander or calling him an idiot.

“How is your shoulder?”

Erwin was baffled but answered her honestly.

“Sore but healing well.”

“Good. I’m sorry I stabbed you.”

Erwin swallowed and shook his head to tell her it was alright, his throat refusing to let him speak. Hanji was watching the Angelus Mortis carefully, her eyes filled with confused sorrow. (Y/N) glanced at the bespeckled Squad Leader and nodded once, a tiny smile curving at the corners of her lips.

(Y/N) could do nothing but sit still as they finished clamping her hands behind her back and stood her up, leading her out of the cell and up the stairs to her inevitable death.

_____________________________

Levi strode through the halls, looking for Erwin. He had been told immediately upon his arrival that the Commander had managed to capture a dangerous assassin from the Underground and needed his assistance in transporting them to the Military Police base to be detained and sentenced to death. He had been a bit surprised with the news, he hadn’t known that Erwin was hunting for a killer from the slums, but he had been out for an entire week on that solo mission, so things were bound to happen without his knowledge while he was gone.

Levi only paused by his office to switch out the sword he had for a cleaner, sharper one. The blade he had carried previously was covered in filth and worn from the constant fights he had been forced to break up on his mission.

As soon as he had a better weapon, he set off for the dungeons where Erwin and Hanji were supposedly already bringing the criminal up the stairs. He hadn’t heard much about this assassin, all he knew was that they were exceedingly dangerous, known as the Angelus Mortis, and they were headed for death row. He gripped his sword a bit tighter as he walked, readying his mind to prepare for anything. A criminal this dangerous would be incredibly strong and while he had no doubt in his mind that he could defeat the bastard, he would rather get out of the fight with all of his limbs attached.

“Levi! Over here!”

Levi looked up as he approached the dungeon steps, his silver eyes flickering over to the prisoner in Hanji’s and Erwin’s grasp. His eyes widened a little when he realized the assassin was a woman, her filthy (h/c) hair covering her face as she hung her head.

“Oi, who are you? What’s your name?” Levi asked coldly, his eyes narrowing on her thin form.

He expected her to keep her head down despite his commanding tone. He knew criminals like this, you could yell at them all you wanted, demand things from them, even beat them and they would usually remain stubbornly silent. 

What he did not expect was for her to lift her head sharply, the sound of his voice triggering something in her.

Levi gasped audibly when her (e/c) eyes met his silver ones, his entire world shifting beneath his feet. Her whole body froze when she saw him. For a moment, nobody breathed, Levi’s eyes roving over her constantly as he tried to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

(Y/N). That was (Y/N). His (Y/N).

The one who had given him so much love and appreciation every day despite their shitty lives in the slums. The one who had comforted him when the world felt too dark; the one who loved him when he couldn’t love himself; the one who patched him up after a fight and fought by his side when she could. It was (Y/N). Undoubtedly (Y/N).

“Levi? What’s the matter?” Hanji asked.

Levi suddenly remembered the reality of their situation. (Y/N) was the goddamn Angelus Mortis. The most dangerous assassin in the world was the love of his life, and she was being sentenced to death.

“Let her go,” Levi said, his voice low.

“What? But Levi-”

“I said let her go!” Levi barked.

Hanji and Erwin exchanged concerned glances but slowly moved to unlock the handcuffs holding her to them.

As soon as she was free, (Y/N) sprinted forward and crashed into Levi, her small frame hitting him like a bullet. 

“LEVI!!!” (Y/N) cried in a strangled voice.

Levi grunted a little at the impact but wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her waist, completely forgetting about the audience that watched them, their mouths dropped open in shock. Hanji and Erwin were no better, their eyes wide.

“Oh my fucking gods, it’s you, it’s really you,” (Y/N) whispered in awe, her arms tightening around him, holding each other in the middle of the hallway.

Levi was about to speak when he looked up and noticed that everyone was staring. Sending a glare in the direction of their audience that promised a painful death to anyone who spoke, Levi reluctantly pulled away from (Y/N) and grabbed her wrist, tugging her along behind him as he made for his office.

“Wait, Levi!”

“Levi! What the hell!?”

Levi heard Erwin and Hanji call out to him but he ignored them, making a beeline for the familiar wooden door to his quarters. He could hear the pounding footsteps of the Commander and the crazy scientist coming up behind him, but he did not stop or slow down, his eyes trained on his destination.

When they had finally reached his office, Levi pulled (Y/N) inside and begrudgingly let Erwin and Hanji join them before slamming the door shut and locking it. (Y/N) barely had enough time to glance around the space before he was on her again, this time sealing their lips in a searing kiss that stole the air from her lungs.

Erwin’s and Hanji’s jaws dropped at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier kissing the Angelus Mortis without a care in the world. Neither one of them had ever known Levi to be interested in love, the sullen man even going so far as to get angry at the mention of it, rolling his eyes when couples kissed in the hallways and gagging when Hanji tried to set him up with someone.

Levi pulled away from the kiss, panting, before he moved his lips to place desperate butterfly kisses all over her face and neck, his body humming at the feeling of her against him for the first time in years.

When they finally broke apart again, both of them ignoring the company they had in the office with them, they stared at each other, their eyes shining as they took the sight of their lost lover. (Y/N) reached up and gently cupped his cheek with her palm, her heart nearly exploding when he nuzzled into her touch, his eyes closing and his own hand coming up to cover her own.

“Gods, I missed you so fucking much,” Levi murmured.

“Me too Levi, I missed you so much, I don’t even have the words to express it.”

“I thought I lost you…,” Levi choked out, a single tear sliding down his cheek to hit her thumb where her hand was still holding his face.

“I thought I lost you,” (Y/N) whispered, her thumb moving to swipe the tear off of his skin. “I was told when I asked around that you were killed in combat with Farlan and Isabel, after being forced to join the military.”

Levi’s eyes opened, his silver hues glassy with unshed tears.

“I tried to get you. Tried to come back for you. But when I got to the Underground, everyone near our old place told me you had been brutally murdered. I even found the inside of our house to be destroyed with blood splattered on the floor.”

Levi’s body began to tremble as he relived the horrendous memory. The time when he thought all hope was lost, all life was meaningless, and that he was destined to be alone. When he had collapsed upon the filthy floor of their old ramshackle home, the blood soaking into his pants and sliding over his palms, he had wanted nothing more than to die. Almost did, until he managed to remind himself that she would’ve never wanted that for him. That she would’ve killed him if he decided to end his life. And so he had hardened his heart and left the scene, making that promise to himself right then and there that he would never love another woman ever again. He would live, for her sake, but he would never love, for his sake.

(Y/N) glanced away from him then, her hand dropping from his face to twist nervously in front of her, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“Yeah, well, when I thought you were dead, I knew there was no hope for me left. I was in agony, but I was also furious. Beyond furious at both the Military Police and the Survey Corps for taking you and Isabel and Farlan away from me. Aside from that though, I was also scared. Scared they would find out about our relationship and come looking for me. I knew I had to get out of there, I refused to work for the murderers who had taken away my one happiness in this life. So I trained myself, starting by faking my own death to become untraceable. Then I became stronger, faster. I killed both to remain free and to make them feel the pain I felt when you were ripped away from me.”

Levi’s eyes softened and he reached for her, bringing her into his chest and holding her tightly, his fingers tangling in her hair. Oh gods she was skin and bones, he could feel how malnourished she was through his shirt, her ribs poking him in the chest as he held her.

Suddenly, the Commander’s sharp voice broke the spell in the room, making both Levi and (Y/N) jump a little when he spoke.

“Sorry to interrupt, but what the fuck is going on here?” Erwin asked.

Levi and (Y/N) pulled out of their embrace but Levi kept an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, holding her close to him as if she’d disappear if he let go.

“Sorry, Erwin, Hanji,” Levi said, looking at each of his friends in turn. “I’d like for you to properly meet (Y/N) Ackerman, my wife.”

If Erwin and Hanji thought they were shocked before, nothing could have prepared them for the bombshell that just landed on them. Both of their mouths fell open so they were gaping like fish, their words caught in their throats.

“YOUR WIFE!?” Hanji suddenly screeched, her eyes sparkling with shock and wonder.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile and nod, her expression making the room feel several degrees warmer.

“But, Levi, you’ve never worn a ring!” Erwin pointed out, his mind scrambling for any kind of clues that he had missed that would’ve told him sooner that Levi was married. He came up empty. He knew for a fact that Levi never wore a ring on his hand, knew that if he had, Hanji would’ve never stopped asking him about it.

Levi then flashed a small smile of his own, and reached up to remove the cravat from around his neck. As soon as the pristine white fabric had fallen away, Erwin and Hanji were both able to see the silver chain that was clasped around his neck, a simple gold band hanging from the center.

(Y/N) reached up with her own hands to move the flaps of the old jacket she was wearing, the same silver chain with a gold ring on the end of it sitting against her sternum.

Erwin and Hanji just stood and stared in complete and utter shock for a moment, before Hanji suddenly let out a loud squeal, her eyes shining behind her glasses as she ran right up to (Y/N). Levi stuck an arm out as the energetic woman came running up to them.

“Oi, Four-Eyes, don’t go harassing her.”

“Levi, this is your wife! I can’t not come and say hello!” Hanji said incredulously, pushing his arm away and ignoring his scowl as she bounded around (Y/N) excitedly. “Oh my gods you are so pretty! No wonder Shorty likes you!”

(Y/N) blushed at the comment and sheepishly ducked her head down a little but she was smiling brightly, her fingers moving to gently run down Levi’s arm, telling him she was alright even with this wildly energetic woman in her face.

“T-Thank you,” (Y/N) said. “Are you a friend of Levi’s?”

The  scientist nodded excitedly and stuck out her hand for (Y/N) to shake. “The name’s Hanji.”

(Y/N) shook her hand and tried to force the blush from her cheeks as Hanji continued to fawn over her.

“Levi, how come you never told us you were married?” Erwin asked while his girlfriend continued to blubber away, cooing over (Y/N)’s features and already beginning to set up a meal plan to help her get strong again.

Levi leveled a gaze at his Commander and one of the few people he called his friend. It was hard to tell what the giant blonde was thinking. He obviously knew Hanji’s opinion on everything, but Erwin’s sharp blue eyes remained unreadable but no less intense as they settled on the shorter man, waiting for a response. Levi naturally drifted almost imperceptibly closer to (Y/N) before speaking.

“I thought she was dead, Erwin. I’ve thought that ever since I went back to try to bring her up with me and found that scene at the house. Not only would telling you have been pointless, but also, it hurt too much to talk about her. I never took off my ring, I always wear it under my cravat, but I could never bring her up in conversation, not without feeling like my heart was being ripped out,” Levi said quietly, his voice a low rumble and his cheeks tinted with the palest pink as he admitted his feelings aloud.

Erwin contemplated his Captain’s words, his eyes narrowed on the sharp grey ones that stared right back. After a moment, Erwin could tell there was no deception in his friend’s gaze, nothing to suggest he hadn’t told them about (Y/N) for some unorthodox reason. The Commander nodded once, and he could’ve sworn Levi let out the softest sigh of relief. Hanji’s head suddenly shot up from where she had been examining (Y/N) for injuries.

“So that’s why you never accepted any of the women I tried to set you up with!” She said. “You were always so bothered by it, always so angry, now I know why!”

“Yeah,” Levi grumbled as he glared at the scientist. “Even when I thought she was dead, I just couldn’t love another…” 

Hanji stared at him for a moment before her eyes softened. She knew how hard it was for him to admit all of this, how awkward he must feel right now trying to explain everything. She wasn’t used to seeing her normally blunt, stoic, collected friend so nervous.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I just didn’t want you to be so sad and lonely anymore.”

Levi threw her another glare but it was less harsh this time, and having been friends with the grumpy man for so long, Hanji could read the hidden gratitude in his eyes. She nodded once in response and went back to checking (Y/N) over.

“(Y/N),” Erwin called, suddenly turning to face her after watching Hanji examine her.

“Yes?”

“Now that we’ve found out about your connection to my Captain here, I want to remind you that I am technically still obligated to take you to the Military Police for your crimes.”

Levi let loose an almost animalistic snarl and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), his eyes flashing and his teeth bared as he dared his friend to even try to take her from him. Erwin didn’t even bat an eye, a small smile curving at the corners of his lips.

“Since it is obvious that is not really an option for either of you, I would like to formally ask you to join the Survey Corps. That way, I can discount any charges against you and protect you from being forcibly taken from our custody once the Military Police realize we are not going to arrive.”

(Y/N) looked up at her husband, meeting his gaze and squeezing his hand comfortingly. Gods she had missed him so much, her heart ached with how much she loved this man, how much she never wanted to let him out of her sight ever again. Even though she had hated the military for most of her life, basing her entire career around it in her search for vengeance, there was no debate in her mind. Even if joining the Survey Corps wouldn’t have guaranteed her life, she knew she would’ve always agreed.

“Yes, I will join the Survey Corps, pledge my life to you, and fight for humanity,” (Y/N) said clearly and without hesitation, returning the smile the Commander threw her. Turning to Levi, (Y/N) looked deeply into his gunmetal eyes, marveling at the emotion swirling within them. “I will follow you, wherever you go, no matter what happens, I am never letting you out of my sight ever again.”

Levi let a genuine smile ride across his face as Erwin and Hanji left to go submit the proper paperwork, giving the reunited couple some privacy. Leaning down, Levi pressed his lips to hers in a blazing kiss, gentle and sweet but no less passionate, letting his kisses tell her exactly how he was feeling in that moment.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, (Y/N),” Levi whispered breathlessly when they pulled apart, resting his forehead against hers.

“I will always come back to you, Levi,”  (Y/N) said, her own eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I only ever feel truly alive when I am with you.”

~~~

A/N: I know the ending dialogue is a little cheesy but I had fun writing this anyway. Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoy! More Levi content coming soon!

[twinkleallnight]

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Characters: Rashad, Noah and his mother.

Word count: 760

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry except Noah.

Rating: Mature

Prompt: Features day 6 of TRR Appreciation Week hosted by @trraw

Link to the Series here.

"Once upon a time, when we were young…"

"How young?" Noah asked. Rashad smiled at his little son. Noah was a spitting image of his father with dark black hair that fell in waves on his temples. His eyes were dark and he had dusky skin and the brightest of smiles.

"Ten years younger. It was the day of the festival of five kingdoms. A day to celebrate the union of kingdoms under the single flag of Cordonia. The royal palace was shining in its full glory. The ballroom was decorated to attract all the nobles of the great houses."

"You were there too, Pa?"

" Yes, I was there and your Mama was there too."

" Were you married?"

"No. I was appointed as a lawyer in the royal council and she was one of the ministers in the council. That day brought us closer to each other." Rashad remembered the painful circumstances that they survived together.

" We were all enjoying ourselves when suddenly there was a black out with a BOOM!"

Noah curled up in reaction.

Rashad placed a calming hand over his back and rubbed gently. "Are you sure you still want to listen to this story?"

"Yes Pa, please!" Noah straightened up to show he was brave enough.

Rashad chuckled. "It was an attack by assassins."

"As-a-?"

"Assassin. Bad people. Enemy. They came for the king but hurt anyone who came into their way."

"Were you scared Pa?"

"A tiny bit." Rashad showed with his thumb and finger slightly parted. "But we knew we had to be strong and fight."

"You fought?" Noah asked wide eyed, his heart swelling with pride. "There were royal guards to help. I was saved. There were many noises around me. But then I saw your Mama fighting with one of the assassins."

"Wow. My Mama?"

Rashad nodded. "The assassin was running away when I rushed to help her."

He hugged Noah before giving him the details ahead. "Mama was hurt." Noah stiffened. "But she showed a lot of courage. I helped her to get to the doctor. The doctor took care of the wound and Mama was fine in few days."

"Then you married her?"

Rashad laughed out. "What is the hurry little guy?"

Noah relaxed and lied down on his bed. "That is when you live happily ever after." He reasoned.

"We got married the next year." Kiara's voice came down from the door.

"Mama!" Noah squealed getting up and as she neared his bed, he jumped into his mother's arms.

Kiara kissed him and settled him back into his bed.

"Mama, I am proud of you." He beamed. "Does it hurt you now, where the ass-ass-in hit you?"

"No dear. Not anymore. Your Pappy took good care of Maman. Made me strong again." She looked at Rashad lovingly.

Rashad smiled and patted her cheek.

Kiara focused back on her son. "And now that you know we 'lived happily ever after', it's time to say good night."

She kissed his forehead and he cupped her face with his little hands kissing her chin.

Rashad ruffled Noah's wavy hair. "Good night little guy."

The parents left a peaceful and content Noah to sleep.

"How are you?" Rashad asked Kiara once they were inside their bedroom.

"Okay." Kiara answered in monosyllable.

Rashad closed the distance between them. He rested his hands on her shoulders. "I know this time of the year is always difficult for you."

Kiara sighed. "Especially when they are going to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Cordonia's victory over its enemies. The saga will be narrated to the public to commemorate the valour of our people. But it will be like digging into the old wounds of few people."

Rashad placed his palm over Kiara's heart and repeated Noah's question, "Does it hurt you now?" Intending to ask her emotional condition.

"Every single time I remember." She said with tears in her eyes.

He embraced her into a warm hug. "Oh Kiki! I am so sorry."

Beads of tears rolled down her cheeks as she said in a heavy voice, "Thank you Rashad. For always being there for me."

He carried her to their bed where she snuggled close to him and slept.

Rashad's hand grazed at the hem of her shirt and when it crossed the barrier of the cloth, it landed on the scar. The ugly remanant of the fateful day that they had to celebrate with their countrymen tomorrow.

He rested his chin on Kiara's head and gazed into the darkness. His eyelids grew heavy and he slowly dozed of to sleep.

After all they were living their happily ever after.

****************

Next part here

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[sealer-of-wenkamui]

Ciaran Character Analysis

I’ve been thinking a lot about Ciaran over the last few months, so I wanted to try and collect my thoughts and do a proper character analysis of sorts. Of course, things are highly open to interpretation in Dark Souls, so this is just how I read her character and the reasons why.

               First of all, I actually don’t think she was together with Artorias for a number of reasons. She almost certainly had feelings for him, but I think she tried to hide them, and perhaps didn’t fully understand them. For one, she simply speaks of him as a “dear friend”, and while this could also be taken as her keeping their relationship secret, there is no description or unused dialogue from Artorias’ side hinting at it either.  I also wonder if her unused dialogue where she calls him a “dear companion” was changed because it sounds too openly affectionate.  In Gough’s unused dialogue he states that she had “strong feelings” for him, which is worded like they were one sided instead of in a relationship. And while he might have realized it, Gough is also the most perceptive of the Knights, even realizing that the fire will one day fade, while Artorias strikes me as being much more oblivious. Finally, her dying words come across like the confession of a dying woman, one who was never able to say her feelings in life, so she at least will say them now that she has nothing to lose. Interestingly enough, they’re also unsubtitled- words meant not for you, but for Artorias and for herself.

               One of the biggest reasons why I think she would hide her feelings is her position. She is one of four Knights of Gwyn, entrusted with a special soul, and despite her appearance, she is considered something more than human, and seems to have disdain for humans (as seen by her dialogue when you attack her, or even just the way she says “human” in her unused dialogue).

I don’t think it’s the case that she’s human while the others are not just because she’s small, since size seems to be easily variable based on the state of the soul, for example Ornstein grows in size upon absorbing the soul of Smough, or Gael, much larger than your average person after consuming the dark souls of the pygmies. Perhaps even Artorias was a normal size to begin with.

Ultimately the gods and these demigod-like existences with their special souls aren’t all that different from humans, but the important thing is that they are considered as such, so she would be too. Humanity is constantly linked with the dark throughout the series.  And even someone as kindhearted as Artorias, who believes in the goodness of humanity, thinks of the dark as something evil, something to be feared (In fact he words it as believing them to be more than just dark in his unused dialogue). One of the four Knights of the man who sacrificed himself to stave off the Age of Dark would want nothing to do with the dark. Yet feelings, and especially feelings of love, are a very human thing (just look at the pursuers/affinity description for example). That alone seems like the strongest reason to hide any feelings she might have for Artorias, to refuse to acknowledge that human side of her, to repress them and pretend they don’t exist.

Even more so than the other knights she comes across as having something to prove, as someone that has worked so hard to reach the distinguished status she has and doesn’t want anything to take that from her. The lightning arrow description mentions that female knights were rare to begin with, and she was able to work her way up to being one of Gwyn’s most trusted. The porcelain mask description mentions how determined she was to earn it as a decoration of honor (I imagine she first became an especially distinguished Lord’s Blade before becoming one of the four), and the English description actually leaves out another interesting fact- that it’s decorated with her own hair. The wording makes it sound like she cut her own hair to decorate that mask. This makes it seem like she wanted to stand out and make a name for herself- giving herself a distinct look that would come to be feared by all enemies of Lord Gwyn.

On the level of character design, her mask is what she’s most known for, the hornet ring description in DS3 even drawing attention to it. This comes across as a very deliberate choice reflecting her character- as she is a woman whose mask is more than just physical, someone who is perpetually hiding her “human” side. Her mask gives her an otherworldly look, like something beyond humans and reflects her “divine” self. Her purpose in life is to strike down any and all enemies of her Lord, and she has worked so hard towards that alone, almost as if she’s trying to become the mask she wears.  Even though I think she might be able to relax a little around the other knights and especially Artorias, she comes across as a very serious woman that doesn’t truly know much about herself outside of her job. Interestingly, her face under the mask is just the default female face in-game, as if she truly isn’t meant to be seen without it!

No matter how much she tries to repress her feelings though, a mask is still just a mask, and they don’t disappear just because she wants them to. She has strong feelings for Artorias, a darkness she desperately wants to hide. Despite being a Knight of Gwyn, I tend to associate her with the darkness as a result, and even her name may be a reflection of that as well. Ciaran is common Irish boy’s name (Ciara is a girl’s name but she specifically has the masculine form of the name, a decision I also think was intentional and may tie into her being the only woman of the four and how rare female knights were) and looking around, she doesn’t seem to be named after any famous Ciaran as far as I know. So, what is the meaning of the name? Little dark one. A name associated with darkness seems especially significant in this series, and her struggle with her own humanity is central to her character, something that even her name itself betrays.

Since female knights are apparently rare, and she has an especially high-ranking position, I think she would also want to hide her feelings out of fear of being seen as just a girl in love. I also think its interesting how the hornet ring description also draws attention to the fact that she’s the only woman of the four, and how her name is almost exclusively used for boys, and I wonder if she went by the title of “sir” as well. At the same time, her appearance is the distinctly feminine look shared by all the Lord’s Blades, even using her own hair as well, so it’s not something she’s hiding either.  

In addition to being the lone woman of the four, I also got the impression that she’s the youngest and last to join the Knights, which may further add to the feeling of needing to prove herself.

The main reason why actually comes from her speech pattern, when you compare it to the rest of the characters seen in that time period, it stands out. While Elizabeth, Dusk, Gough, and even Artorias all speak in an old-fashioned manner, she noticeably does not, except for “May the Lord guide thee” which sounds like a set phrase anyone serving Gwyn might say. If it was tied to status, then she would speak that way as well, she’s hardly trying to hide it (and besides we see other characters opposed to the gods that speak in the same way, like the hollow outside the Ringed City or Yuria). Maybe she did come from a more humble upbringing and that could be why, but with how varied the characters that do speak like that are I don’t think that’s it (and even some clearly noble characters don’t, like Lothric or Oceiros). So I wonder if its simply because she was born later once speech styles had changed.

Her position also makes sense if so as well, she’s an assassin, so even if she wasn’t around until after the Age of Fire had begun and Gwyn had gained status, that’s exactly when you would need a skilled assassin to eliminate your enemies. In other words, she’s not a dragonslayer, so it still makes sense if she is younger.

Going back to her feelings, the way I see it is that Artorias being consumed by the Abyss and killed is what finally forced her to face them- she’s not able to recognize just how strong they are until the man himself is gone. Perhaps she planned to kill him herself as she was in the area, but realized she couldn’t, or rather that she would almost surely hesitate and get herself killed. In a way, its almost a relief the chosen undead came along and killed him instead, she understood it was something that needed to be done, and though she doesn’t seem to like humans very much, she doesn’t hold anything against you.  You find her immediately after killing Artorias, so she almost certainly would have been the one to find his corpse and make that small memorial, as if she wanted to make sure it would be her and no one else to find him. Despite being the kind of person who would always be watching her back, you find her kneeling in prayer, not so much as turning to look at you when you approach, and you can even easily attack her from behind in such a state. As if simply being there in prayer was the most important thing in that moment- and she surely has a lot of thoughts going through her head and a lot of feelings hitting her all at once. At this point, she can’t lie to herself, and even if she couldn’t confess while he was alive, if you take her life, she’ll at least do it before she dies.

When you speak to her, she seems to have no interest in you outside of obtaining Artorias’ soul, with only his will stopping her from taking it from you. She claims she wants to pay proper respect to him with it, but at the moment, his actual grave hasn’t been made yet, so I imagine she might take it into herself for a while until that point.

As to her eventual fate, I do think its likely she’s the corpse found behind his grave that has the hornet ring. At first I wondered why someone of her status wouldn’t have a proper burial, but in time, not many people are going to that grave, and those that do don’t return, so it may simply be she died after it was forgotten, and her corpse was never found.

The fact that she will give you her tracers if you give her his soul implies she gives up being a Knight of Gwyn (they’ve half fallen apart at that point anyway), but she doesn’t strike me as the type to kill herself right then and there, I think it would be a slow wasting away and curling up to die behind the grave of the man she loved. She (nor Gough) drop the special souls that they should have as part of the four… and while it may simply be to not further encourage people to kill them, if that soul is what gives them a long life (Ornstein is somehow still around after all) she may have purposely given it up so that she may eventually die… or maybe its after she receives his soul and she keeps both hers and his at his grave.

Finally, her ring ends up in the untended graves in DS3, and while there are a number of reasons you can come up with for how it ended up there, I feel like the most important part is the symbolic meaning behind it- for it is found by a grave with a Farron greatsword, one of the types modeled after that of Artorias’. It feels as if even in death, her feelings linked the two of them together.

While not nearly as direct, even DS2 has a parallel to Ciaran in the form of Alsanna. Much like Ciaran, you find her kneeling in prayer mourning her lost love, who also happens to be a left-handed swordsman who sacrificed himself and got corrupted and even has (several) animal companions. (DS2 also is where its mentioned that Artorias was left-handed, and its consistently used to mark characters paralleling him, even in Bloodborne with Ludwig.) Her soul even gives you a pair of curved swords. Parallels can also be drawn between the other three knights and people closely associated with the fragments of Manus, but only Ciaran parallels the child of dark herself, further deepening her association with the dark.

More directly, DS3 has the Dancer and Vordt, two knights who seem to honor Ciaran and Artorias’ legacy, and were always seen together- in fact you can see phantoms of what seems to be them before they were transformed into beasts walking the streets of Irithyll together (Vordt too, is left-handed). Despite how she tried to hide her feelings, I think it may have been her ring that betrayed them, so they ended up being remembered together. The Pontiff Knights in general also have a great deal of similarity to the Lord’s Blades, somewhat in armor design but mostly in their job, being described as Sulyvahn’s “punitive blades”. The Dancer herself most notably has two curved blades that look remarkably similar to Ciaran’s tracers in shape, as well as being gold and silver, even wielding the gold one in her left hand like she did.

There are probably more little details I could add, but this is already long, and I’ve covered the major points that I’ve thought a lot about. I tried to explain my reasoning as best as possible too, but there’s plenty of stuff that’s unknown and that’s half the fun. Feel free to comment, I love Ciaran and I love to think about her and discuss her!