#the shock. the betrayal. i am just a bird with a window. i am my cat cas and our old sliding glass door.

[love-songs-for-emma]

sometimes you just gotta bonk your hand on a see-through object to be reminded that you are the same as any other creature on this earth

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 8

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE NEXT MORNING

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

Combing his fingers through his hair, Eivor finished tying the last link of his braid as beams of sunlight steadily began to seep through his window, signifying the start of a new day. He could hear birds singing in a chipper tone just outside the wooden walls, and in the distance, he detected the subtle sound of seawater crashing against Bjornheimr’s shores.

The weather today seemed to be much more peaceful compared to what they experienced previously. Eivor could still feel a cold chill blowing freely throughout the longhouse, but it wasn’t nearly as forceful as what they had to endure before. 

The fires they lit were more than enough to fend off the icy breeze that tickled their skin, and the sun’s warmth only added to the heat that was beginning to gather in their home. 

All-in-all, it was a rather serene morning to welcome the people of the sleepy village. Unfortunately however, what the day lacked in cumbersome weather, it made up for in altercations.

Not too far away from where he sat, Eivor could hear Sigurd and Styrbjorn’s voices booming inside the war room, echoing off the walls like a chain of thunder. Their words were somewhat muffled thanks to the many layers of wood that stood between Eivor’s quarters and the main hall, but even then, it wasn’t difficult for the young man to guess what was going on.

It sounded like they were arguing about the same thing that brought Dag to the docks yesterday. Sigurd’s tone was gruff with a familiar edge of annoyance, and the king himself seemed to reflect his son’s dour mood. There were occasional bouts of silence where the two of them would calm down for a few moments, only to erupt once again when someone’s anger got flared up.

Eivor just wished he could stop it somehow. It wasn’t difficult to see that Sigurd’s state of mind had deteriorated rapidly over the past couple days, and the young man wanted to help the prince before it became any worse. He cared about his new friend despite only having known him for a week, and the gradual rise in his frustration admittedly ignited a sense of worry in Eivor’s heart.

He just feared that Sigurd would be even more distant now that the Wolf-Kissed’s feelings had been made clear. The older man appeared to have no issues opening up about his emotions in the past, but his demeanor completely shifted as soon as Eivor confessed to his feelings during their short fishing trip.

He closed himself off in a way that Eivor had never witnessed before, and within seconds, it felt as if they were strangers again. It was one of the few conflicts that led the young man to wonder if Ingrida’s prediction had been correct all along, and if so, he feared what that would imply for the wolf that continued to haunt the prince’s dreams.

If someone really dared to turn traitor in the near-future, Eivor couldn’t even begin to imagine the chaos that would ensue. There was enough tension hanging over Bjornheimr thanks to Kjotve’s barbarity that something as severe as betrayal would’ve done nothing except cause it to snap. 

It was the last thing they needed in a time like this, and the easiest way for Kjotve to to get the upper hand. They couldn’t let it happen.

Taking his leave from the bedroom, Eivor finally decided to move on with his day and strode out into the main hall, only to find himself more intrigued by the argument as the longhouse’s structure amplified the men’s voices.

Sigurd was currently leading the conversation with an iron grip in his tone, and the level at which he spoke even frightened Eivor to a certain degree with how alarmingly calm it was. The anger seemed to have vanished entirely from the prince’s rotten mood, and left nothing but exhaustion and defeat in its wake. 

It was the intonation of a man who’d lost every shred of patience he once contained, and Eivor didn’t even have to see Sigurd’s face to know that he was at the end of his rope.

“...I can’t do this anymore, father.” The man said, barely speaking above a whisper. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is? Every single day, the villagers of Bjornheimr ask me where their king is, and every single day, I have to come up with an excuse to explain your absence. Oh, my father’s just busy. Oh, he’s occupied with something else. Oh, don’t worry, he’ll be here soon.”

A sudden thud emitted, leading Eivor to assume that Sigurd had just slammed his fist on the table.

“I’m done with it!” He exclaimed. “I may be next in line for the throne, but you are still the king. I can’t keep stepping in for you. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s alright. Kjotve continues to threaten our shores on a daily basis, and you’re struggling to even stand upright! What more do you expect me to do?”

Styrbjorn sighed deeply, entirely at a loss for words. “...My son, you know I am trying my best--”

“--Are you?”

“--Yes, Sigurd. I am. But it’s not as easy as you think.”

“We are at war, father,” the prince emphasized. “Nothing is going to be easy. But that’s no excuse to spend all your time sulking in the longhouse, drowning yourself in mead. Do you remember what you said to me the night before we left Fornburg? You told me not to worry. You told me this wouldn’t be an issue. You promised it.”

“And what did you tell me?” Styrbjorn countered. “You assured me that you would do everything in your power to make this marriage a success. And yet, I see you doing nothing except gallivanting around Bjornheimr with Eivor in tow, completely turning a blind eye to your betrothed.”

Sigurd’s irritation only escalated at the response. “I-- you know nothing of my relationship with Eivor. He is an honorable man, and he has helped me through many things as of late. He understands the necessity of this alliance, just as I do. Do not try to turn the blame on him.”

“And what would you have me do, exactly, Sigurd?”

The prince’s voice became hardened with steel. “Be the king these people think you are. Deliver the promises you made, and stop hiding in the shadows whilst I do everything in your absence! The whole point of this alliance is to rally an army large enough to snuff Kjotve out for good. How are we supposed to do that when our own king is constantly stumbling over his own two feet?”

“Your reckless behavior is hardly going to help defuse the situation either, Sigurd. Need I remind you that you nearly got Arngeir’s son killed? Where would we be now if Eivor had been slain in those woods? What do you think the state of this alliance would be? Have you ever considered that?”

“Of course I have! But unlike you, I intend to learn from my mistakes. Not repeat them over and over again.”

Sigurd let out a breath and stepped back from the war table, putting an end to their semantic circles.

“...Enough.” He muttered. “I’m done with this. I have my own duties to attend to, and I’ve wasted enough time arguing with you. If you must send Dag after me again, I’ll be discussing matters with Ulfar near the training yard. Otherwise... just leave me be.”

Shutting down their argument, Sigurd stormed out of the war room before Styrbjorn even had a chance to reply and marched into the main hall, practically leaving a trail of flames behind him with how aggravated he was. 

His brow was crinkled with a deep sense of fury, and in the silence that followed their heated conversation, Eivor heard nothing but the firm thumps of the prince’s footsteps echoing throughout the longhouse.

When the older man noticed the Wolf-Kissed standing outside however, he halted in his tracks and stared at his friend in a shocked manner, unsure of how to react. The veil of rage hanging over his expression suddenly disappeared, and a look of shame singed itself into his face once he realized Eivor had just heard everything.

“E-Eivor?” Sigurd blurted out, coming to a sudden stop. “I... I didn’t know you were there.” He lowered his head in embarrassment, dreading to hear how the man would respond to his next question. “...How long have you been standing here?”

Eivor softened the truth somewhat, not wishing to cause Sigurd anymore stress. “Only for a short while. Don’t worry, I didn’t hear much of your conversation.”

The prince didn’t buy it. “We were hurling our words at each other as if shouting across a battlefield. There’s no way you didn’t catch every single syllable.”

The young man gazed down at the floor. “...I don’t mean to pry, Sigurd.”

His companion waved a dismissive hand. “No, it isn’t your fault. We weren’t exactly being quiet. I just wish you didn’t have to listen to all that. I apologize.”

Eivor’s curiosity heightened. “What’s wrong, exactly? Is this about the ‘problem’ Dag approached you with yesterday? Is your father alright?”

Sigurd stumbled over his words, unsure of how to open up about the subject. “No. He’s...”

The man trailed off for a moment and crossed his arms in thought, pondering whether or not to be honest about what was going on. He may have been hesitant to share information as delicate as this, but he trusted Eivor. He knew the younger man would never pass undue judgement on him, and on top of that, his friend had already witnessed a good portion of the conflicts within their family. There was no point in keeping him in the dark any longer.

“...My father is a drunk,” Sigurd confessed. “His habit has been getting worse lately.”

Eivor glanced back at the war room. “The king? Truly?”

The prince’s tone lowered with indignation. “Much to my dismay, yes. It’s not something many people know about. A king has to keep his reputation, after all. Apart from you, Dag is the only other one aware of my father’s problems. Everyone else is oblivious.”

The Wolf-Kissed stepped closer to the other man. “Has your father always been like this?”

“No. Not always. He first developed the habit after my mother passed away. There have been a few times when he’s managed to put down the bottle, but in the end... it always comes back. Like a pair of shackles that just... won’t let go. And this war with Kjotve certainly isn’t helping him recover.”

There was a brief pause in Sigurd’s speech, and he gave Eivor an inquisitive look.

“Eivor...” he said, keeping his voice down, “...can I ask for your opinion on something?”

The young man nodded. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Sigurd’s expression slumped with guilt. “...Do you think I’m being a bad son?”

The question took Eivor by surprise. “No. Why? Do you?”

A somber sigh escaped the prince’s lips. “Part of me does. I just... feel like a failure.”

“Why’s that?”

Sigurd wandered over to one of the tables in the longhouse, speaking as he walked.

“You must understand, before my mother died, she was bed-ridden for a while due to her injuries. I spent lots of time talking with her during those days, and one of her last wishes was for me to take care of my father.” 

He took a seat at the table, resting a hand on the surface. “...I think she always knew he would become like this once she was gone. She knew he wouldn’t be able to cope. So I promised her I’d do my best to keep him safe.”

Eivor joined his side. “And do you not believe you’ve done that?”

Sigurd shrugged in discouragement. “Well, look at us. Two decades have passed since my mother left this realm, and my father is still in the same place where he began. His addiction is only growing worse, and I’m starting to lose my patience. I just feel like I’ve disappointed my mother. I feel like I’ve failed to keep my word.”

The younger man frowned in empathy. “No, Sigurd. If your mother was anything like you, I’m sure she’d understand. But if you wish to help your father overcome this, you must try to be more patient with him. It’s not so easy to get rid of something like this.”

“I know.” Sigurd replied, sounding sharper than he intended. “My father’s been dealing with this ever since I was a boy. I know it’s not that easy. But I’m at a loss for what to do. I keep trying to help him and he just... won’t let me. He shoos me away like a pestering fly, and ignores my words no matter how many times I repeat them.”

The prince brought a hand up to his temple, rubbing it out of stress.

“I wish he would wake up and realize the urgency of our situation. We are at war. This is no time to be idling around. Our clan needs him, and so do I. Why can’t he see that?”

Eivor cocked a brow. “What about Dag? Has he ever tried to help?”

Sigurd scoffed harshly. “Dag? Psh. That man has all but made himself scarce these days. He hardly speaks to me anymore. It’s like we’re complete strangers. I don’t know what’s happened to him, but he won’t come anywhere near me now. He acts as if he doesn’t even know me.”

The Wolf-Kissed’s heart ached for the man. “...I’m sorry, Sigurd. I know you care for him.”

“I do. But I suppose that never meant anything to him. Or to anyone else, really. Mostly everyone I know has either stopped listening to me, or simply abandoned my side altogether. I don’t know if it’s me that’s the issue, or them, but... in all honesty, Eivor, you’re the only one I can trust now. You always take the time to hear me out, and I know you’ll be there when I need you. It... it means a lot.”

“I just wish I could do more to help.”

The older man shook his head. “You’re sitting here speaking to me. That’s already more than what most people can say.”

Sigurd calmed down somewhat and shifted in his seat, taking on a gentler tone. “...Eivor, you know what it’s like to lose your parents. Did your mother or father have any final wishes before they passed? Any hopes that you find yourself constantly trying to fulfill?”

Eivor was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know, truth be told. We never had the chance to discuss anything like that. Both of my parents were killed instantly when Kjotve raided our home. Any last wishes they might’ve had followed them to the grave.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Although...” the young man continued, “my father was always encouraging me to walk the path to Valhalla. His goal was to raise me as a warrior, and as a man of honor. I imagine if he were still here, he’d want me to pursue that on my own. So, I try.”

“A worthy pursuit,” Sigurd remarked. “Your father would be proud of you.”

Eivor beamed fondly at that. “...Thank you, Sigurd.” He turned away briefly and stared aimlessly at the view in front of him, thinking back to his childhood. “You know, when I was a boy, I actually used to be angry at my father. He sacrificed his honor in order to save me, and I once viewed him as a coward for it. I felt abandoned. Betrayed. I even almost threw away his axe one time. Thankfully, Ulfar stopped me.”

A puzzled look spread across Sigurd’s face. “What do you mean he sacrificed his honor?”

“Kjotve made a deal with him during the raid,” he explained. “He told my father that if he laid down his axe, he’d let the rest of our clan go, including me and my mother. She begged him not to listen to Kjotve, but... her words fell on deaf ears. My father complied in the end, and he allowed himself to die unarmed. As you can imagine though, Kjotve broke his promise. So ultimately, my father’s death meant nothing.”

Sigurd shook his head, leaning closer to Eivor. “No, not nothing. You’re still here. You still have a chance. Make use of it.”

“...Perhaps you’re right,” the Wolf-Kissed conceded. “I just hope I can reclaim my father’s honor before I die. He’s suffered in Helheim for long enough. I won’t allow myself to be killed like him. I won’t die without honor.”

The prince nodded in approval. “Good.”

Eivor took a second to gather himself and decided to put the topic to rest, proposing a new idea to the older man.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean for this to take such a grim turn. What say you to a quick walk around the village? I can show you some more places where I like to relax. It might help you take your mind off things.”

Sigurd sighed, lowering his head. “...Not today, Eivor. I have to see Ulfar soon, and frankly, I’m just not in the mood for it. I fear all this business with my father has put me in a rather foul state. I’d... rather be alone for now.”

Eivor was disappointed at the response, but respected it nonetheless. “It’s alright, Sigurd. I understand.”

The other man displayed a faint smile. “You always do.”

Sigurd stood up from the table and rolled his shoulders, attempting to wring the stiffness out of his body. He appeared to be feeling better than when they first started their conversation, but it was evident that he still carried a colossal weight on his shoulders.

“I should get going.” He said, sounding utterly drained. “Ulfar will be waiting for me, and I don’t wish to vex that man any further.”

“Is everything alright between you two?”

“Yes,” Sigurd reassured. “He just wants to discuss Bjornheimr’s defenses in case Kjotve shows up. I warned him about your suspicion that he might strike back in retaliation. That’s all.”

Eivor found some relief in that. “Well, tell Ulfar to let me know if there’s anything I can do to assist. I want to protect this village as much as he does.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sigurd took one last glance at the younger man and gazed at him warmly, unable to hide the affection shimmering through his eyes. He may have been restraining himself from taking things any further with the Wolf-Kissed, but that didn’t mean his feelings were wholly eradicated.

“Thank you for listening to me, Eivor. I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I’m not normally this irritable, but... things have been complicated, to say the least.”

Eivor nodded. “Of course. This war has taken a toll on everyone, I fear.”

“Indeed. Which is why I’m grateful that I still have someone I can speak with. You’re one of the few things keeping me going. I’m not sure what I’d do if I had to bear all of this on my own.” Sigurd gently cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ll see you some other day, my friend. This next week is going to be chaotic for me, but hopefully, I’ll be able to slip away here and there. I’d like to spend more time with you before the wedding starts.”

“Likewise.”

“Then let us pray that the gods give me an occasional break,” the prince joked. “Odin knows I could use one. Goodbye, Eivor. I hope the rest of your day is more pleasant than mine. Don’t hesitate to approach me if you need anything.”

Eivor watched as Sigurd strolled away, wishing desperately that he could comfort the man somehow. He wanted more than anything to just give him a simple hug, but alas, he knew what would follow if he allowed himself to get any closer to the warrior.

So, instead, he settled with a friendly wave and remained seated at the table, keeping his eyes on Sigurd as the prince began to vanish in the distance. He wanted to say so many more things to his friend before his departure, but he knew it was no longer his place.

They had already decided that their relationship had reached its boundaries, and no matter how difficult it would be, Eivor intended to keep it that way.

“Farewell, Sigurd.” He whispered. “May you wander into calm seas... and may the darkness part wherever you roam.”

[beautifulterriblequeen]

41. "Can you be the one to do it?"

I hope you’re ready for Ruthari and also moonfam angst.

Can you be the one to do it?

The runic message pops up unexpectedly, displaying over its communication crystal in a softly glowing turquoise font Ethari designed just for Runaan. The crystal’s low vibing alert noise rumbles against his worktable for extra noticeability. Ethari knows how hard he focuses when he’s in the zone, but if Runaan needs him--if he sends him a text--Ethari wants to be damn sure he gets it in a timely manner.

His heart goes molten, and then icy, melting a hole straight through him, out the bottom of his feet, through the tree house, into the earth. It takes with it a magmatic cry of denial that Ethari wishes he couldn’t hear.

But he can. It’s his own cry, from the moment he learned of Lain and Tiadrin’s betrayal. It echoes forward through time, bouncing off this moment like a desperate bird fleeing a forest fire, frantic to escape the reality that’s burning down the world.

Ethari saw it in his husband’s eyes when Runaan told him. He’d seen it. The fracture in those flawless gemstone eyes. He could hear the crystalline wrench that spidered fault lines through Runaan’s heart. Runaan used to know his exact place in this world, down to the very millimeter, the very second, the very breath. Heir to Tiadrin, mentor to Rayla, leader of the Moonshadow assassins, bearer of a thousand years of unbroken Moonshadow honor. He’d done his best to hold everything at once, and Ethari willingly added his strength to that grip, holding Runaan as well.

Together, they held so much.

But in the middle of the afternoon, Runaan’s eyes shattered, and his soul along with them. 

Gems aren’t metal. You can’t just melt them down and start over. You can’t just erase their damage, reforge their strength from the start. Gems are fragile, for all their solidity. Brittle. They hold, until they don’t. And once they crack, there is no repairing them.

Ethari saw, felt, heard his husband’s spirit split. He told Ethari the news, coolly, hiding his shaking hands, and then he spun on his heel and said he had work to do. He left. He ran. Ethari reeled back from that moment, retreating to his workshop after Runaan left. And now, an hour later, this message.

Can you be the one to do it? 

Ethari knows what Runaan’s talking about. But he’s feeling shut out, aching, hurt. He needs connection. Even if he gets it from pushing Runaan into admitting his feelings. He picks up the message crystal and presses at its facets.

Do what? he asks.

And then he stares at the crystal. Willing Runaan to admit he’s hurting too. Willing him to confess he needs help. Let me help you, my heart.

Runaan’s single-rune reply comes in a minute later.

Rayla.

Ethari hopes he was staring at his crystal, too. His fingertips hover, about to agree to tell Rayla about her parents’ horrible, confusing, painful choice. About to take that burden from Runaan’s shoulders.

Then he thinks again. Runaan waited to reply. Runaan always knows what he wants to say, choosing his words with exquisit care. Why did he wait?

Ethari rests his hands on his worktable and stares at Rayla’s name. After so many years, he’s fluent in Runaan. Everything the assassin does is an open book to the craftsman’s eager, curious, willing heart. If he can just take a moment, he can suss this mystery out...

Runaan, you’ve asked me to do something, he thought. Something you had to text me about, rather than ask. The crystals are for things we don’t want to say aloud. There’s more here than just shock and your assassin tasks, isn’t there?

Ethari drags the weeping shreds of his own heart together, and he focuses through the pain. Focuses on Runaan, on what Runaan would be focusing on right now.

Duty. Always duty. What’s he doing? The very first thing he’s doing right now, what is it? Ethari’s mind leaps to Tiadrin’s other chosen assassins. He’s telling them, too. They deserve to know first. And he’s thought of Rayla. Of course he has! She’s Tiadrin’s daughter. She needs to know first, too. But...

An echo of Ethari’s cry bounces off another tree in his heart, still fleeing from that initial heartbreak. But he can’t. He can’t be as hard with her as he can with his old squad. He loves Rayla more softly than those he trained with under Tiadrin’s tutelage. And he can’t break her heart like this.

He’s asking me to do it for him. But he’s hesitating, too.

Ethari draws a shaky breath. “You’re not certain about this, are you, love?” he whispers to the message crystal. “You’re out there looking like the leader everyone needs you to be. But you’re just as lost as everyone else. You’re just as lost as I am.”

His bottom lip trembles, and the crystal vanishes inside a sudden fist. If you fall, my heart, we all fall. He can’t even say it out loud, the vulnerable truth runs so deep through his soul. He’s seen Runaan’s soft heart broken before. So much more is at stake this time. Everything’s at stake. Ethari’s next move will determine Runaan’s path. And where Runaan goes, so go the Moonshadow elves.

I must be perfect, the craftsman realizes. For Runaan, and for everyone i love. I must be perfect.

He wipes sweaty palms on his pants and nibbles at his lip, holding an aching breath in his lungs

Then his thumbs move across the crystal’s facets, and the fate of the world is sealed.

No. Hold to your duty, my heart. You can do this. I believe in you.

__________________

Runaan stares at the lavender runes hovering over his crystal, feeling a shocked tear gather in the corner of one eye. Heavy stone doors in his heart, open for years and years now, begin to rumble shut before the pain of Ethari’s message can truly sink in.

I’m on my own. Again. 

“Runaan?” Andromeda asks, pulling his attention back across the room where his colleagues and friends have gathered to begin planning their honor-bound response to Tiadrin’s baffling cowardice.

Runaan blinks and takes a deep breath. The honor of the Moonshadow elves isn’t going to save itself.

Very well. To the task, then.

“One moment, before we begin,” he says. “There is another whose honor is at stake, and she deserves to be involved here, as well, to whatever degree she chooses.”

“Rayla?” Skor asks doubtfully.

Runaan lifts his chin and offers a cool stare. “My protégé, as I was Tiadrin’s.”

With her lineage established, the other assassins all nod. They trust Runaan as much as any among them, all of whom trained under Tiadrin’s expert tutelage. When he says Rayla should be included as part of Tiadrin’s assassin legacy, they instinctively agree.

“We’ll wait, then,” Ram murmurs, running a finger along the point of a dagger.

Runaan nods crisply and heads outside into the chilly winter air. He crosses the village, heading for Rayla’s school.

Ethari was right, he tells himself, over and over, as the cold breeze infiltrates his skin and tousles his ponytail. This is my duty, and mine alone. My squad and I will go to Katolis together. But this part, breaking Rayla’s heart for love of our people... Only I can do that. Only I should do that.

Ethari was right to tell me no. He was right. I was too soft. It won’t happen again.

Runaan strides into the school and pauses at the door of the round classroom Rayla’s currently in. Chin high, hands clasping his forearms behind his back, waiting to be seen. Slowly, his presence sinks in, and one by one the young Moonshadows look over at him with wide eyes. Then they all look at Rayla.

Rayla.

She slouches against her pillow, flicking her pen in the air and catching it like a dagger, only half listening to the history lesson, her eyes on the window, mind elsewhere.

“Rayla,” the teacher prompts gently.

His protégé’s mood shifts instantly at the sight of him. Her eyes light up, and she leaps to her feet, immediately attentive. “Runaan!”

The conspiratorial smile that lurks in the corner of Rayla’s mouth drags Runaan’s heart out, kicking and screaming, through the closing gap in those heavy stone doors. She thinks she’s free. The thought stabs at him. He tenses his gut and starts driving it back inside again. She thinks I’m saving her from her boring class. I’m not freeing her. I’m binding her. Moon help me, Tiadrin. How did you manage this part with me?

“...Runaan? Is something wrong?”

Runaan’s hands clench around his forearms. He blinks away his tears and lifts his chin. “Rayla... come with me.”

[useless-slytherclaw]

 Sizhui is settled beside a small stream in one of the numerous clearings in the mountains around the Cloud Recesses.  The sound of the river is soft and soothing, and the spring sunshine overhead is bright and warm.  Sizhui picks out a soft melody on his guqin, and he can hear the soft sound of birds singing in the distance.  

 It’s incredibly tranquil, and that’s why Sizhui came here, but there’s still anxiety twisting his stomach into knots.  His emotions have been chaotic ever since he learned that he was born a Wen.  The fragments of memories slotting back into place are frustrating, and the nightmares he can’t seem to stop are worse.  

 However, it’s the slew of emotions- confusion, fear, anger, guilt, anxiety- that bother him the most.  No matter how much meditation he does or soothing songs he plays, he can’t seem to find his calm.  

 There’s a whole basket of questions and worries, but the one he’s currently turning over and over in his head is how to tell Jingyi all of this.  Jingyi is his best friend, the person Sizhui can always confide in.  It feels wrong to keep a secret from him, and Sizhui could really use his comfort.

 The soft sound of footsteps on foliage catches Sizhui’s attention, and a moment later, as if Sizhui’s thoughts had summoned him, Jingyi appears at the edge of the small clearing.  

 Sizhui’s heart jumps in his chest at the same time his stomach twists anxiously.

 “Thought I might find you hiding here,” Jingyi says, with a bright smile, one that never fails to make Sizhui’s heart flutter.  

 “I’m not hiding,” Sizhui says; it’s only kind of a lie.  If he really didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t have come to a place where the two of them have spent so much time together.

 “Sure,” Jingyi says, coming to sit on the grass.

 “Aren’t you supposed to be in the library?” Sizhui asks mildly. He’s fairly certain that Jingyi has been assigned to copy the rules again.  

 “I was worried about you,” Jingyi says.  

 Something inside Sizhui softens and his anxiety lessens slightly.  

 “You’ve been acting oddly since everything with Senior Wei happened,” Jingyi says.  

 Sizhui has to look away from the earnest concern in his eyes.  

 “Sizhui,” Jingyi says, and his tone is unusually calm and serious.  “You know that I love you right?”

 Sizhui’s head snaps up and his heart flips over.  There’s no way he heard that right.

 “What?” he asks faintly.

 A familiar expression crosses over Jingyi’s face: it’s not quite horror or mortification, but it says that he’s spoken without thinking and is regretting it.  But then that expression shifts to determination.

 “I love you,” he says.  

 For a second, Sizhui just stares at him, but before Jingyi’s determination can give way to anxiety, a brilliant smile spreads across Sizhui’s face.

 “I love you too, Jingyi,” Sizhui says.  His heart is pounding, and he really hopes that he’s reading this moment correctly.  

 Jingyi’s eyes light up, and he grins.  He reaches out to take Sizhui’s hand and squeeze it.  Sizhui threads their fingers together, still not quite believing that this is real, that revealing the feelings he’d buried for years had been that easy.

 Sizhui looks at Jingyi, at his lips.  He wonders if Jingyi would let him kiss him.  He wants to.  

 “You can tell me anything, Sizhui, I hope you know that.”

 Just like that, the bubble of happiness shatters, and the sick feeling is back in Sizhui’s stomach.

 “Yes,” Sizhui says, but his voice isn’t confident.

 He stares into Jingyi’s brilliant grey eyes and tries to find his courage.  How can he tell Jingyi that he’s a Wen, when the Wens had burned down the Cloud Recesses and killed Jingyi’s parents, when Jingyi still has nightmares about it.  

 Jingyi squeezes his hand comfortingly, and Sizhui takes a deep breath.  He can trust Jingyi; he always has.

 “Senior Wei told me about my birth family,” he says quietly.  

 Jingyi’s eyes search his face.  “You don’t seem excited?”

 Sizhui shakes his head slowly.  “Jingyi, my parents were Wens.  I was- am- Wen Yuan.”

 Jingyi’s expression goes completely blank, and Sizhui’s stomach clenches so tightly he almost leans over.

 “That’s not funny, Sizhui,” Jingyi says, letting go of Sizhui’s hand.

 “I’m not joking,” Sizhui says, then more quietly, “I wish I was.”

 Jingyi just stares at him as Sizhui quietly explains what little he knows about how he ended up in the Cloud Recesses.  When Sizhui stops talking, the whole clearing is silent except for the discordantly cheerful burbling of the stream.

 The expression on Jingyi’s face is shifting from shock to something between hurt and betrayal, and Sizhui clenches his hands into the fabric of his robes to resist taking his hand again.

 “You- You’re- You’re one of them,” Jingyi says, and Sizhui can almost see the memories in his eyes.

 “No,” Sizhui says.  He’s not, not really, but then, “yes?”

 Jingyi pulls away from him, and panic rises in Sizhui’s throat, making it hard to breathe.  

 “Jingyi?” He says, leaning forward.

 “Don’t-” Jingyi says, pushing himself to his feet.  Sizhui looks up at him with wide eyes.  “You aren’t who I thought you were.”

 “I am!” Sizhui protests.  “I’m the same person!”

     I can’t even remember them    , he wants to scream.        I don’t know who they are.  I’m a Lan, not a Wen.  

 Maybe, if Jingyi’s expression was angry, he would have.  Maybe if it was derision or scorn he saw there, he could be angry back.   Instead, Jingyi looks hurt,      betrayed.      He takes another step away from Sizhui.  

 “Jingyi, please!” Sizhui says.        Please listen to me.            Please understand.  I need you to.  

 But for the first time in years, Jingyi doesn’t understand.   Sizhui is so used to communicating with Jingyi without words, that they get all tangled up on his tongue as Jingyi takes another step back and then another.  

 “The Wens… Your family, they murdered my parents.  They burnt the Cloud Recesses to the ground.  They… They were monsters.”

     What is the son of a monster but a monster?     Sizhui has been asking himself that question since he learned the truth, and he can hear it behind Jingyi’s words.

 “I didn’t-” Sizhui says.  He was hardly old enough to talk when the Sunshot Campaign began.

 “Don’t,” Jingyi says, shaking his head and turning away.  “Just don’t.”

 He walks to the edge of the clearing, the same way he’d come, and Sizhui watches him in mute shock.  He can’t figure out how things had gone so wrong so quickly.  He can still feel Jingyi’s hand in his.  A distant part of his brain tells him that Jingyi is hot-tempered and that he will cool down and this will turn out okay, but it is a very very small voice.  

 Jingyi looks back at him.

 “I wish,” he says and shakes his head.  “Right now, I wish I’d never met you.”

 With that, he turns and walks away.  

 Sizhui opens his mouth to call after him, but the words get stuck in his throat as something inside of him breaks.  At first, he’s frozen, staring at Jingyi’s retreating form.

 Jingyi. His best friend. The love of his life.  The person he’d thought was his soulmate.

 And he threw Sizhui away just like that.

 Just like everyone else.

 His shoulders start to shake, and he realizes there are tears on his face.  He’s sobbing, tears of loss and anger and guilt all welling up.  

 He raises his hands to cover his face, to stifle the sound of his sobs.

 And jerks upright, tears on his face.  He blinks at the sudden darkness around him.  His room.  He’s in his room.

 “Sizhui?” Jingyi’s voice is sleepy and half-muffled.

 Sizhui takes a deep, shaky breath.  A dream, it was just a      dream.      Its moonlight is filtering through the window, not sunlight, and the sky outside is still pitch black.

 Sizhui tries to wipe the tears from his face, and he hears shuffling on the other side of the room.  He looks up to see Jingyi padding towards him in the semidarkness.

 “Another nightmare?” he asks, and Sizhui can only nod.  “You okay?”

 Sizhui just shakes his head.  There’s no point in lying about his feelings when Jingyi can read him so well.  Jingyi drops down on Sizhui’s bed next to him and pulls him into a hug.  Even as Sizhui presses his face against Jingyi’s shoulder, he feels guilt rising.  He still hasn’t told Jingyi about his Wen heritage.

 “I’m sorry,” Sizhui whispers.

 “It’s okay,” Jingyi says, rubbing Sizhui’s back.  “Nightmares happen.”

 Jingyi’s presence is so comforting.  Sizhui feels warm and safe in his arms, and he can feel his breath and heartbeat returning to normal.  But as the emotions from the dream fade, very real guilt and anxiety assert themselves.  He feels like he’s lying, letting Jingyi comfort him when Jingyi doesn’t know.

 “Sizhui,” Jingyi says, quietly.

 “Yeah?”

 “You know that I care about you right?”

 The words are so close to the words of Sizhui’s dream that he almost has a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

 “You can tell me anything,” Jingyi says.

 “Yes,” Sizhui says, but his voice is small.

 “I don’t know what happened, but something has been bothering you since the stuff with Senior Wei.  You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m always here for you, okay?”

 Sizhui nods.  He needs to tell Jingyi, and he needs to do it now, but the betrayed expression on the Jingyi of his dreams is seared onto his mind.  He’s not sure he can handle that expression twice.

 “Senior Wei told me about my birth family,” Sizhui whispers.  

 Jingyi is still holding him, and Sizhui should really sit up and give him space, but he can’t seem to force himself to.

 “Okay,” Jingyi says, carefully.

 “Jingyi,” Sizhui’s voice is shaky. “My parents were Wens.”

 The words hang in the darkness between them, and Sizhui’s heart leaps into his throat, but Jingyi doesn’t shove him away, doesn’t even pull away.

 “That’s what’s upsetting you?” Jingyi asks, and Sizhui pulls back to look at him.  

 It’s hard to see his expression in the dark, but there’s no sign of anger or pain in his expression, only concern.

 “You… don’t mind?” Sizhui asks, cautiously.

 Jingyi shrugs, “it doesn’t matter who your parents are, A-Yuan. Lan Yuan, Wen Yuan, it doesn’t matter.  You are still the same person, still my best friend.”

 The knot of guilt and fear eases so quickly that Sizhui almost feels heady as he stares at Jingyi.  Jingyi, who has never cared that Sizhui didn’t have parents.  Jingyi, who always stands up for him.   Jingyi, who never complained about Sizhui’s nightmares.  Jingyi, who is Sizhui’s best friend.  

 “Jingyi, I love you,” Sizhui says, and the words surprise him.  He can feel his own eyes go wide.

 Jingyi’s expression is unreadable in the dark.

 “Do you mean?” He asks, and is that      hope    ?

 “I mean,” Sizhui says and pauses.  There’s no possible way for him to convey the way he’s feeling right now: the warmth of it, the sheer overwhelming force of it.  

 Instead, he reaches out, surprised to find that his hand is completely steady, and pushes Jingyi’s bangs out of his face before leaning in to kiss him.  Sizhui’s heart is in his throat, but Jingyi doesn’t pull away and doesn’t push Sizhui away.  Their lips brush together, and Jingyi      kisses him back    .  It’s hardly a moment, but Sizhui’s heart leaps in his chest.

 Sizhui can’t help the smile spreading over his lips, and he watches as a matching one spreads across Jingyi’s.  

 “I love you too,” Jingyi says and leans in to kiss Sizhui again.

[teeztheflag]

─────────────────────

S c h m e r z (Pain)

⋆ pairing: demon!ateez x reader (poly!ateez)

⋆ genre: demon au, suggestive, crack

⋆ warnings: strong language, use of medicine, suggestive topics, pet names, cheating, alcohol, partying, suggestive topics, angst, lots of arguments, mentions of killing, manipulation

⋆ words: 10,100  

a/n: @unatempesta-dipensieri​ this is for you honey 

⋆  „What’s a little bird like you doing here alone?“

─────────────────────

„Good morning!“ Woo Young enters the dining area with a huge grin on his face and Seong Hwa chuckles at the little strands of hair that are standing up from his head.

Soon the others join the clan on the table and start to dig into the delicious breakfast. „Wait, is (y/n) not up yet?“ Seong Hwa eyes the round and his gaze stops at Yun Ho and Min Gi who are trying everything to avoid their hyung‘s look.

Hong Joong quirks an eyebrow and sips on his tea. „Guys, did you do something to her?“ That’s what makes Yeo Sang‘s eyes turn into a crimson color eyeing the two demons, too.

„Woah, I mean, calm down... She’s upstairs still sleeping. Yun Ho and me wanted to wake her up but she was still so sleepy.“

The others only nod silently at his answer. Usually you’re always the first when it comes to eating but there could be many reasons why you are not joining them.

San munches on his toast while listing them off in his head one by one.

First, you could be really sleepy because you and the others watched movies until three am this morning and now it’s 8.46 am.

Second, you were embarrassed because you fell asleep on the couch although you swore you wouldn’t sleep at theirs for the beginning.

Which also leads to the third reason, you realized that you woke up in Yun Ho‘s bed sandwiched between him and Min Gi and now are even more embarrassed.

And Fourth, you just pretend to sleep and wait for him and Woo Young to come upstairs and give you the best fuc -

„San? Are you even listening?“

„Yeeeees, sorry.“

„Ah, really? Then repeat what I said.“ Hong Joong watches him while the brown haired boy smirks mischievously. The leader sighs and puts down his napkin.

„I said for the next time we have to watch out for (y/n) but without her noticing. We all know she would freak out if she knew but it’s for her best. I guess she’s still not understanding that many demons are after a marked female...“

„What? Are you talking about me?“ All their heads turn around to see you standing in the doorway wearing a shirt from Yun Ho which comes off as definitely oversized and they all think you look too cute like this.

„Are you awake now, cupcake?“

You frown at Woo Young.

„What did I say about the nicknames? I am still tired but I guess my appetite awakened me.“

After eating breakfast with the demons you got a shower and quickly went back home but not without going through a lot of protests from the boys. Honestly, you were very embarrassed about falling asleep at their house although you made it clear you wanted to take things slow but - you were just so tired. Even now sitting at your desk in your dorm room you couldn’t concentrate at all.

In a few hours you had go to your part time job and you felt like falling asleep in any second. You groaned out and let you head fall onto the surface of the table closing your eyes. Great. Now a headache was coming around, too.

This night you fell into your bed very exhausted. You didn’t make any progress in studying this afternoon and also your boss had been very shitty to you at your shift today. All you wanted was to sleep...

Much to your dismay you only felt worse this morning but got up nevertheless to go to your courses. A pain killer could maybe help a little bit and so you swallowed the pill and grabbed your bag. You already were late so you passed the campus with quick steps and nearly collapsed into the chair for your first lecture.

It only worsened throughout the day. You were on your way back to the dorm and felt really hot. Your limbs hurt and the headache came back. Black dots formed in front of your vision and you quickly found a bench to rest.

Suddenly you saw Jong Ho emerging you with a stern expression on his face. „(y/n)?“

He placed his hand on your forehead and frowned.

„What are you doing here?“ You felt the urge to close your eyes out of exhaustion. You were convinced that something was not right with you by now but you never felt like this before.

Your eyes flattered open and you noticed the change of your surroundings. You were placed neatly into Hong Joong‘s bed. The curtains were closed creating a comfortable brightness in the room. The air conditioning system was turned on and you felt a wet cloth on your forehead.

You felt a lot better and noticing no one was around you turned your head a little bit to the cushion you layed on and smelled the wonderful scent of the demon.

How can someone smell this good?

You giggled at your own awkwardness and quickly arranged yourself when the door carefully opened.

Inside Yeo Sang, Hong Joong and Seong Hwa came. You made eye-contact with everyone of them and stopped at the youngest of the three.

Shit, hopefully he doesn’t read my thoughts about Hong Joong‘s wonderful scent. Heck, (y/n)! Stop thinking... He doesn’t look away! Start singing... Bulleo bulleo mhhmhmhm

You continued humming to the song in your head totally unaware of how the three sat down on the bed and Yeo Sang looking out of the window with a knowing smirk on his face.

„Can you not stop that?“

„I am sorry (y/n). I didn’t chose this ability.“

„What even is going on here?“ Hong Joong and Seong Hwa look between you and Yeo Sang but when no one answers them Seong Hwa clears his throat to gain everyone‘s attention.

„At least you are not ranting about being again in one of our beds - “

„Now that you’re mentioning it how - ah, wait... Jong Ho brought me here, right?“

„Yes. You had a high fever and blacked out so we thought it would be the best to bring you to our place and give you some medicine. How are you feeling now?“

„Better... I just don’t know how I became ill it’s definitely not the season for it.“

„(y/n) maybe you had contact to someone - “

When Yeo Sang tried to touch your forearm you suddenly felt a harsh pain at your wrist just like the last time that crazy guy appeared.

„Ahhh ... fuck! h- hurts..“

„(y/n)!“ Hong Joong and the other two demons try to look from where the pain comes and the leader‘s eyes change into a crimson when he realizes it’s your mark.

Soon the others are in the room trying to figure out what’s wrong because they feel the distress of their clan brothers.

Your forehead is sweaty and Yeo Sang also has to take a step back from the bed clutching at his head out of pain.

„What the hell is happening here?!“ Woo Young shouts and Yun Ho comes to lay a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

Luckily the pain soon vanishes leaving you blacked out again and the fever higher than before.

Downstairs the boys except of Yeo Sang who still sits by your side settled together and debate on what was happening with you.

„I first thought it could be a normal flu or something but now that her wrist burnt where our mark is I think it’s has to do with us and the bond.“ Seong Hwa says.

„Mh, also me and Yeo Sang felt it, too.“

„Here, I got the book.“ Yun Ho enters the living room area with quick steps and places it on the table.

„Okay, I think I found something...“ This caught the interest of the other demons who where scattered around the place by now and building a circle around the book and Seong Hwa very fast.

„Seems like her body and soul starts fighting our mark...“

„What the fuck?! How and why?!“

„Jong Ho, calm down.“ San embraces his brother form behind to calm him down while Hong Joong might start to realize what is really happening here.

„Listen! It also says that it can be due to the human itself or if another demon tries to claim him or her.“

„I think the first option is bullshit because we talked about this so who’s the motherfucker trying to take away my kitten from me?!“

„San, first - it’s not only your kitten and secondly - the nickname‘s stupid. Let’s agree on babygirl.“

Seong Hwa proudly smirks at his idea and San coughs at that.

„*cough* pervert *cough*“

„Guys, can we please focus on (y/n) and not such unnecessarily things?“

„Jong Ho is right. It’s cupcake anyways.“ Woo Young high-fives with Min Gi and grins.

Hong Joong only facepalms and groans.

„Stop. We have to figure out who’s behind this until then we continue watching her and talk about every little change we notice. Alright, guys?“ Everyone nods at him and looks up when Yeo Sang comes down the stairs shock evident on his face.

„How is she?“

„Sleeping. It’s angel you idiots!“

The next days your condition got better and the demons were relieved to see you quite energized and healthy again. You were thankful they took such good care of you but it was time to get back to your lectures and work everything up.

yunhoe: wanna grab a coffee after your last lecture? (´｡• ω •｡`)

you: yeh I pay

yunhoe: why? let your bestfriend treat you

you: you want sth in return

yunhoe: would never ( `ε´ )

you: you’re turning into a woo young version 2.0 these last weeks

yunhoe: :‘( the betrayal

You smile at your display and link your arms with your female bestfriend Hyo Lyn when she emerges you with a big grin while walking to the other campus.

„Oh, who’s the poor guy.“

„You’re mean (y/l/n) (y/n). He’s a very lucky boy and his name is Seok Woo.“

You stop in your tracks and eye her suspiciously. „If I hear a page being turned in the next seconds I am outta here.“

„Gosh, stop watching those dramas.“

„That only proves you watched it, too!“

„Of course. Now I can have my own Ha Ru.“ You laughed out loud gaining a few questionable looks from other students at how Hyo Lyn emphasizes the name.

Inside the lecture hall you sit down next to each other still gossiping a little bit and cringe when she tells you that last weekend at a fraternity party Choi San and Jung Woo Young were seen having a threesome with one of the prettiest girls of the campus.

Such dickheads. While you’re ill they go out having their fun and then still lie about having feelings for you!

„You’re alright?“

„Of course I am why wouldn’t I!“ Hyo Lyn shrieks back at your outburst which again draws the interest of many people in the hall to you.

„Haha, I mean, they’re both really hot and you’re at theirs so often! Do you think Yun Ho would have something against it? Or are you still playing hide and seek with Kang and Kim?“

You could’ve banged your head onto the table but stopped yourself before.

„Can we just forget I ever told you about this?“

„Ehm, no. Look, gaining the interest of the Kim Hong Joong and Kang Yeo Sang is a dream coming to life! Maybe you could ask them for a threesome?“

„Fuck, Hyo Lyn! Stop this nonsense.“ Your cheeks were painted so red you had to cool them down with your palms leaving your bestfriend a laughing mess next to you.

After the lecture ended you checked the bus line and saw that there was a technical issue which let to a high delay for the next one. To be punctual for Yun Ho you had to run across the campus and catch the next one which would take a lot more time than usually.

While running you accidentally have your eyes only a second on your phone checking the time and of course bang into someone who luckily caught you pretty effortlessly.

„Shit, I apologize a lot! I am in a hurry and - “

„Well, hello my love.“ You really couldn’t believe your eyes. In front of you the perverted demon stands eyeing you with an amused look.

„You!“

He laughs still holding you in his arms.

„Me!“

„Stop!“ You try to wiggle out of his grip and much to your suspicion he lets you out of his arms carefully.

You look around if someone’s watching you and when sure there are not much students left you turn again to him and whisper-yell. „What are you doing here?! Don‘t say you want to kidnap me again...“ You fold your arms in front of you but slightly panick when he leans down too much in your comfort zone.

„I am studying here now and my lecture just ended.“ You scoff and push him back by his chest.

„What bullshit! Aren’t you too old to study?“

„Wait, how old do you think I am?“

„As a pervert you’re probably fourty or something...“

„H - how dare you! I am 26 years old!“ You give him a bored stare and mention for him to hold it.

„However. I am going and keep out of my way or - “

„Ah, this is will be hard. Because we have the same subject.“ A shiteating grin takes its place onto Joo Hyuk‘s face and you just couldn’t believe this guy.

You try to push your way around him when he stops you by your wrist again and takes you into an embrace from behind. His hold on your wrist leaves a undefinable pain and you hiss out when he finally leaves it. Trying to break free he only holds you closer and you can feel him leaning into your neck. You shudder when you feel him taking in your scent.

„Are you afraid my love? You don’t have to be... I would never hurt you.“ Much to your dismay your body betrays you and you feel your legs giving out at his words which pleases him.

You would lie when you told yourself that this wasn’t exciting but you didn’t understand your feeling at all.

Suddenly he lets you go and chuckles lightly. „Guess we will see eachother more from now on, (y/n)“ And with that you turn around but he’s nowhere to be seen anymore...

Stupid demons.

„Shit, the bus!“

Yun Ho texted you he would drive to the campus with his car because it was getting way too late and today it was his task to watch over you. At least he would bring you home safely and maybe drink a tea at your dorm.

The dorm was only a fifteen minute walk from your position but heh.

You smile when you see him pulling in at the parking spot. How he hops out of the expensive vehicle makes your heart jump but you try to cover it quickly knowing he would sense it.

As he nears your form a frown comes across his face and the next thing you know is him holding your shoulders in a very tight grip. You shudder at seeing your bestfriend like this the first time in your life and gulp when his orbs transform into a deep red color.

Yun Ho drags you to the car and drives to the demon‘s mansion faster than you liked. He pushes you inside the livingroom where Yeo Sang and Min Gi were currently playing Fortnite and some of the others around cheering.

„Hey, what’s our beautiful cupc - “

„Hold him back!“ No one noticed Seong Hwa coming from the kitchen with a gaze full of hate and disgust at your form. Before he could lunge at you Hong Joong and Jong Ho use all of their strength to hold him back. They drag him outside into the garden but the next demon also seems to lose his mind by letting out a deep growl like sound and Woo Young covers San‘s eyes and pushes him out of the room, too.

„What’s with them?“ You find yourself in Yeo Sang‘s arm in a second who seems to try to protect you from the other demons. Tears prick at your eyes and Yeo Sang tries to shush you by caressing your back in comforting circles.

You sit down on the couch after Hong Joong calls Min Gi to get out, too. Leaving only you, Yun Ho and Yeo Sang.

Yun Ho didn’t stop walking in circles since you arrived and you just wonder what was going on. You don’t even recognize Yeo Sang rubbing himself on you by smashing your cheeks together and kissing your hair repeatedly...

After a while you still sniffle when the others come back in and you take a look at the two demons that had the outburst. Whereas San seems only pissed Seong Hwa avoids your look at all costs which hurts you a little bit.

„Is this disgusting scent finally off of her?“ Seong Hwa speaks up while looking out of the window.

Now this was what it was all about... but it wasn’t you fault, right?

Without realizing you roll with your eyes earning another growl but this time from Yun Ho. „Do you think this is a joke?“

You scoff at him. „Of course not but you’re not telling me shit!“

„(y/n), we’re just concerned... Yun Ho brought you here because...“

„It’s okay, angel. You can tell them.“ Of course Yeo Sang already knew what happened because the moment started to flash into your mind occasionally since you’ve arrived here.

You told them about your encounter with Joo Hyuk leaving some of them clearly pissed. After a long pause you and Yeo Sang are again alone in the living room and the others come back after discussing and deciding for you to get out of the demon‘s way as good as possible for now.

Of course you agreed with them but if he was really attending the same courses like you things would get problematic. The tense atmosphere also doesn’t sit right with you. Everyone was giving off the vibe that you have been running into him on purpose.

When in reality they just don’t know about Joo Hyuk‘s intentions and that’s what worries Hong Joong the most. He definitely is the reason for your illness but the question is if he would be so dumb to try again to steal you away. His clan is definitely stronger and larger in number so why you? Why again anger the Ateez Clan?

One thing was sure - they had to keep a good eye on that bastard and need you to work with them although you don’t know about him being the reason for your illness and potential threat to claim you as his.

You on the other side were deeply confused and annoyed. Gladly Jong Ho drove you back to your dorm after your discussion but he also didn’t talk to you at all during the ride seemingly deep in thoughts.

Their reactions confused you... first you’ve never seen Yun Ho like this before. Of course this wasn’t the first time he got angry but definitely the first one his anger felt directed to you, too.

You knew San was an emotional person but you couldn’t shake off the feeling he didn’t had himself under control at all yesterday.

And Seong Hwa... the usually calm and soft demon is who hurt you the most. His gaze told you how disgusted he was by you... you felt like it wasn’t only about your scent but you in general at this moment. Like you’ve done something that betrayed him and his brothers.

The night wasn’t pleasant as sleep seemed to come to you hardly and the next evening at your shift you also couldn’t stop thinking about the events. You felt restless because images of the moment with Joo Hyuk coming back to you again and again. You mentally groaned everytime that happened because instead of fear and anger you felt slight excitement. You knew it was wrong to think and feel like that but you couldn’t stop yourself...

„(y/l/n)! The three gentlemen in the left corner are waiting!“

„Oh, sorry, boss!“

You arrive at the table and get on your knees with a bow arranging the menus.

„(y/n), what a pleasure to meet you again.“ You quickly look up and your mouth opens like you want to say something but nothing comes out.

So much for keeping out of his way... Was he following you now?

„You know eachother?“ One of the guys sitting next to the demon eyes you with a flirting gaze to which you give him a ‚fuck off‘ - gaze.

„Yes, this is the special girl I‘ve told you about.“

Eh?

„Special girl?“ It definitely comes out louder than you wanted it to and you check if your boss noticed but are relieved when it doesn’t seem like it.

„Of course. Your indeed very precious (y/l/n) (y/n).“

What shocks you even more is to not find the usual annoying smirk on his face when he says this. Special? Precious? What is he talking about?

You wanted to say something but being unsure of what you just handed them the menus, bowed again and quickly went back to the bar.

„She smells fascinating...“

„Yah, Ji Soo! Don’t even think about it.“

„Why? You’re also hanging out with that human chick. What was her name again?“

„That’s not what I mean. He already has his eyes on her so you don’t have the right to touch her.“

„Stop talking she’s coming back.“

Your brows furrow at their whispering but you brush it off nevertheless. First you cannot stop thinking about him and then he appears again.

What if he really just wanted to study at your university? The last time he could’ve easily kidnapped you again but he didn’t.

Maybe he was just a little bit attracted to you? You cannot shake off the feeling that the others might have overreacted...

Also, what if you had his scent on you? He just hugged you and you didn’t even stand a chance to get out of the grip of a demon. Moreover it wasn’t in your interest at all whereas Woo Young and San couldn’t keep their dicks inside their trousers - which still left a light stinging sensation in your heart.

Of course you knew how they were and that they liked to play around. The question is, why wouldn’t you just be one of the many other girls, too?

You still cannot believe that out of eight demons everyone would have the same amount of feelings for you. To be honest, the only person you thought of really liking you was Kang Yeo Sang. Thinking about Hong Joong - no one really knew what he did or thought in a day.

Maybe you slowly realize that you might fall for them too easily? Since they kidnapped you that day no one really tried to make the next step. Even Yeo Sang and Hong Joong wouldn’t go further than touching you in appropriate places. Well, at least the younger one did. And it all was still friendship like.

These thoughts are giving you a headache. Well, you were the one telling them you only wanted to be friends first then why are you so emotionally confused?

Do you crave for more? Or is it just attention?

Before the three men left the place Joo Hyuk gave you a huge tip which you didn’t stand a chance to reject. Luckily nothing more happened with him to which you were more than thankful. You couldn’t stand so much trouble in short terms.

Arriving at your dorm exhausted you jump on your bed after receiving a text from Hyo Lyn that she was coming over and getting ready for a party. Why would you say no? There were no messages from the guys and you definitely wouldn’t waste this night and free sunday tomorrow.

Yes, this was definitely the best you could do to forget all this mess for now. Only you, your bestfriend and a bottle of wine.

Oh, and loud music, sweating bodies and students making out in every corner. For this night you decided to wear something fancy but sexy, too. The mistake you made? You already drank quite the amount of appetizers with Hyo Lyn while dressing up and you could already feel the coral lipstick smeared from the amount of times you lick them.

You were wasted. Definitely; but in a good way. Hyo Lyn only giggled and dragged you to the dancefoor - the living room of the mansion - and started swaying your hips to the music. By now it was actually unimportant how you looked like you just had fun with the girl next to you and giggled a lot at her stupid dance moves imitating them from time to time.

When you made you way back to the kitchen looking for another drink you couldn’t shake off the feeling being watched. You shuddered at the thought and looked around a few times but couldn’t make out anything suspicious.

Only when you heard the yelling you immediately felt your insides curling. „Quick! Woo Young is winning!“

If Woo Young was here then San would be, too. Meaning there was a high chance some of the others or all of them attended this party, too. Where we’re back to the point - they’re not texting you and acting like wanting to protect you but here we are?

Suddenly Hyo Lyn brings you out of your thoughts by finding you in the kitchen and dragging you outside with a grip on your wrist.

„Come one, we have to watch this!“

Out of a good perspective standing outside a huge group of people in front you can see Woo Young drinking up all the beer and San next to him cheering him on like the others.

You roll with your eyes a smirk building up but it quickly vanishs when you see the cute dark haired beauty pulling him into a kiss and Woo Young first shocked but putting his arms around her waist in return when he wins.

First you really didn’t want to believe Hyo Lyn - but it was obvious that this scene probably replayed every weekend and party they attended.

What about the others? What about the Song Min Gi? What about the prestigious bachelor Kim Hong Jong? What about... what did all of them do?

You went back into the house ignoring the urge to turn into a crying mess feeling like it would be useless. You sat down in front of the mansion outside at the sidewalk alone with your thoughts again. Did you really didn’t know them at all?

No, you knew them. You knew about their hobbies... what they liked to eat and what their dreams were. It was just the fact that you didn’t feel like trusting them and not in the friend like relationship.

The image of them as boyfriends, potential lovers or what you would call it. You’re far away from that and you weren’t a person that tried to seek for the problem in others. It was about you. Maybe your first rejection lead to them losing interest in you. The whole marked thing slowly felt like they just still tried to fulfill something because they gave it to you and maybe they wanted to wait before asking you to take it back...

You definitely were a person to overthink things.

„What’s a little bird like you doing here alone?“

You slowly look up to see who has the nerve to interrupt you at your conspiracy moment.

„Oh, I am sorry... Didn’t want to sound awkward I guess you just looked really cute like t - this...“ You couldn’t stop gaping at the handsome boy. He had black hair with beautiful dark eyes that seemed to shine in the light of the moon and he was just plainly beautiful - exactly pretty like Hong Joong but different.

Hong Joong...

Tears started to prick again at your eyes making the boy worry if he is the cause for your sadness.

„Shit, I am sorry! I didn’t want to upset you!“ He leans down and starts to wipe away your tears with his soft thumbs and you feel oddly comforted by it - probably mainly caused by your drunken state.

„It - it’s not you...“

„Mh.“ He nods in an understanding matter and shoots you one of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen. He sits down next to you still having his arm around your shoulders letting you calm down.

After a while you decide to check your phone to see if someone texted you but you can only see Hyo Lyn informing you about having met Seok Woo and his two very attractive friends and that they were playing beer pong.

„Do you want to get back inside?“

You shrug really unsure and definitely not in the mood to accidentally run into one of the boys. Okay, maybe just get over you high ego and text them!

You searched for San in your contacts and texted him that you also attended the party and if he wanted to hang out in the garden or something.

choi san: I am busyyyy

Wow, what a great answer. You groaned out gaining back the attention of the stranger next to you. „To be honest, I just want to go home and eat as much fast food as I can.“

You flinch a little bit when he suddenly starts laughing at you heartly. „To be honest, I didn’t want to come here in the first place.“ He takes a look back and his nose wrinkles is the most adorable way you could imagine.

„Then why did you come?“

„Three friends of mine wanted me to and I am the driver but now one of them found their girl he’s hanging out with at the moment an the other one‘s still searching for the girl he wanted to meet here.“ You laughed at this because it was cliche.

„What’s with the third one?“

„He just likes to party.“ You both laugh again mostly because you are still tipsy and him finding your laugh contagious.

„Do you want to head out of here? I know we don’t know eachother but I am hungry, too, so we could stop by a diner and after that I am bringing you home?“

„Mh, don’t know. I really don’t know you and my friend is still here... but I could tell Hyo Lyn quickly so she can send the cops after me if you try something funny.“ He grins at you mischievously but without any bad intention.

„Wait, did you say Hyo Lyn?“

„Ey, we looked for you!“ Suddenly you see four figures approaching you causing you and the boy next to you standing up.

Really? That there wasn’t already a massacre at this party fascinates you when you see Joo Hyuk emerging your forms with confident steps his eyes flickering between you and the boy. What shocks you even more is seeing your bestfriend holding hands with a guy next to her that seems to be on of Joo Hyuk‘s fiends and also the trio are the exact same men from your shift.

Leaving you confused who was the boy next to you but seeing his eyes turn into crescents while smiling at his fiends you suddenly feel at ease.

Only Mr. Pervert ruins the mood by winking at you.

„Come one that’s really funny!“ Hyo Lyn giggles at the situation and you cannot hide your smile, too.

„What are you doing here outside? (y/n) I’ve looked for you everywhere!“ Joo Hyuk happily explains and you stiffen a little bit by his statement. Their friend next to you seems to notice and lightly lays his hand on your shoulder to provide you with a feeling of safety.

Poor boy... don’t know he’s messing with a demon and wouldn’t stand a chance against the pervert.

„(y/n) and me wanted to drive to the diner and eat something. Do you want to come along?“

You could swear something flickered in the boys‘ eyes‘ at this moment but you couldn’t lay a finger on what. „No, no. It’s okay. (y/n) seems to be tired and we still want to start this pool party. Am I not right?“ Joo Hyuk laughs at the others and they also happily agree.

Your gaze goes back to him and he smiles and nods at them. „Have fun guys and call me if I should pick you up.“

He guides you to his car which was an expensive Audi R8 and immediately the thoughts comes to your mind if he drives too fast.

Like sensing your doubts the boy comes around the car again and opens the door for you. „You don’t have to worry... I will drive slowly I know you still have alcohol in your system.“

Is he cute or isn’t he?

The night turns around very good in the end. He holds his words and you don’t have to vomit or something. After eating something delicious at the diner with him you feel a lot better now and didn’t even felt the urge to look at your display since the party. Talking comes easily with him and he’s also a very charming guy with a good amount of humor.

After he stops in front of your dorms he gets out again and opens the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take it and when you take it confidently you feel a slight shock.

„Ouch!“ He looks shocked but also apologizes quickly.

„Oh, haha. I am sorry... Maybe that was a sign?“ He smirks with crescent eyes again and you could cry out at how cute he is.

„Who knows?“ You look him deeply in the eyes and you can feel his smile vanish slowly. You gulp and quickly realize what you’re doing.

Stop flirting (y/n)! Cheater!

You mentally roll with your eyes - which you do... quit a lot?

I am the cheater? What’s with them? They give a shit about me at the moment! I can play this game, too!

Without noticing it you slowly nod with your head gaze turned to the ground and a devilish grin on your face.

„Ehm, I just asked if I could have your number...“

Oh, yeah. He was still there.

„Of course!“

(y/n) no!

You gave him your number and let yourself fall onto your bed a huge grin not leaving your face. You don’t have to feel bad, right? You texted San if he wanted to hang out but you could only imagine what he did in that moment. Woo Young was obviously also busy and you didn’t know who of the others attended the party.

You could’ve texted into the group chat you idiot.

Yes, you could’ve but you didn’t want to.

Suddenly you felt the guilt coming back... now that the boy left your mind it seems like you have to think about them. You take a look at your wrist and recall the electrical shock with the boy.

You don’t know his name... That’s what you only realize now. Well, if he decided to text you could ask him.

Eying you wrist again you try to see something that could resemble a mark; the one they gave you. Tonight you don’t really understand why they did it in the first place. You feel anger bubbling inside of you but decide it is worthless to worry about things you cannot change right now.

To get a decent sleep you think back to the crescent eyes and shining orbs that lulled you in. You find sleep better this night and all thanks to the stranger...

You wake up with a blurry sight. Your limbs are burning and a headache forms. You also feel very hot - shit, again?

Maybe you didn’t rest well enough the last time... you roommate asks you if she can help you with something before she head out for the day and you decline thankfully.

It would be the best to make some tea and sleep the day off maybe tomorrow it would be better and you could go back to university. Throughout the day you occasionally checked your messages and pouted when you received nothing. You don’t know if you hoped for him to text you or the others. Let’s say it didn’t shock you anymore that you received no text from the demons.

You also didn’t want to tell them about being sick again you hate the feeling of being a burden to someone... so you spent the day sleeping, groaning, drinking tea and watching shows.

Great sunday...

Luckily you had a good sleep this night but in the morning you didn’t feel any better... To this point you couldn’t shake off the feeling that the centrum of the stress might could be your wrist; exactly where your mark was located.

Maybe it is because of not being near to the demons lately? This doesn’t really makes sense either. There already have been more moments where you didn’t have much time for them and didn’t got sick... 

You clearly are not able to go to your courses today and ask Hyo Lyn to excuse you if someone in your shared courses asks.

Of course the girl wants to come over but you decline not wanting to spread your bacteria. You also ask your roommate to not worry but comply when she tells you she wants buy some medicine for you.

Ah, you were feeling really exhausted and bad again...

You wish someone of the boys would come over and take you into their arms and take care of you but you quickly shake the thought off.

Your wrist hurts again at the thought of them. What the actual hell?

Inside the mansion only Hong Joong and Seong Hwa pace around doing the housework. Well, Seong Hwa tells Hong Joong what to do because the leader is a mess when it comes to cleaning.

Hong Joong feels not good today and he didn’t do yesterday, too. It’s only a light tugging but he cannot say what it could be.

„Everything‘s alright?“

„Yes, just a bad feeling I guess. I wonder how (y/n) is doing. Did she eat? Is she happy? Is some professor getting on her nerves?“

Seong Hwa chuckles. Yes, their chosen mate definitely was someone who got triggered easily by hunger and soppy teachers.

„San told me she attended the party on saturday.“

„Why didn’t he tell us sooner?“

Seong Hwa shrugs while ordering Min Gi‘s laundry. „He just texted me she was there and he took a quick look at her and everything was fine. Hyo Lyn was by her side.“

„Mh, sometimes I feel like she’s taking a lot of her time.“

„Are you jelous, Kim?“ Seong Hwa‘s orbs shine in amusement and Hong Joong frowns at him in return.

„Nooo‘ I just would like to spend more time with her but I guess we should really take it slow...“

„Yes, that’s what we agreed on. Although I would like to apologize for the last time...“

Hong Joong emerged Seong Hwa‘s taller form and leans his head against his arms. „She knows we love her, don’t worry.“

Do you?

The end of the day comes and you decide to not be a pussy and text Yun Ho what he was doing only to be left on read. That didn’t hurt at all, asshole. Was he still salty because of the Joo Hyuk scene?

At least Yeo Sang should understand but he was one of those guys who disappeared for quite a time without telling you and you have the feeling now was the time for it again.

Or should you write something in the group chat? The sun was about to set down while you layed weakly in your bed scrolling through your phone. You found a quite funny video and decided it would be a good way to start a conversation and postet it into the chat.

Woo Young texted back a laugh smiley and the others also wrote something funny but Yun Ho, Yeo Sang and Hong Joong didn’t respond at all...

You couldn’t deny that you missed them even if it wasn’t meant in a romantic way. You missed your friends.

Much to your dismay you had to spend your time in bed the whole week... Luckily you were slowly feeling better and quickly worked out the stuff you missed in the courses. You decided not to write again in the chat and it was funny it became easier to not reply to them either or later because you just forgot.

There was a reason for it because your attention was set on something else or better someone else... He texted you.

First he apologized for not messaging you sooner and today he admit to you that he was a little bit shy and unsure about how to start a conversation with you. Cute...

You texted without a break and you laughed out loud when you asked him for his name and he told you could call anything you like so you decided for ‚charming‘.

You couldn’t come up with anything cooler.

You didn’t tell him about you being ill not wanting to ruin the mood and at the end of the week you asked him if he wanted to hang out.

And you did. It was good and felt at ease with him. He cooked for at his apartment and after that watched a movie together.

„Oh god, who thought it would be a good idea to use such bad synchronisation?“ He laughed out loud and chimed in.

Your head slowly became heavier und you didn’t even recognize that you started to lean on him.

„You have such a nice apartment... I wish I could afford something like this.“

„It’s nothing. I just recently rent it.“ He smiles down on you.

„Wow. What do you even do for a living.“ I doesn’t go unnoticed that he becomes a little bit stiff at your question but you ignore it.

„Let‘s just say I have to do with management.“ You nod at him.

„How old are you?“

„I am 23 years old.“

„Oh, I hope I am done with my education at this age, too.“

„Of course. You’re a smart one, (y/n). I will help you anytime you just have to ask.“ He tilts his head a little bit and places a small kiss on your temple.

You hiss out and shriek back when you wrist starts to burn.

„Woah, is everything alright?“

„Yes, yes...“

His orbs turn a lot darker as he watches the tip of your fingers graze over your wrist. He licks his lips at the sight but immediately arranges himself when you look back at him.

Suddenly your phone rings up and you take it to look who calls you. „Hong Joong?“

„Who’s it?“

„Just a - a friend. Excuse me for a second.“ He nods at you and you go to the kitchen.

„Hello?“

„(y/n)? Where are you?“

„I am out.. Why though?“

„You’re not at your dorm and your roommate wasn’t there, too. I wanted to pick you up for a late movie night...“

„Oh, I am sorry. It’s so late already?“

„Where are you so I can pick you up? We’re missing you, (y/n)... also me and Yeo Sang felt something a few seconds ago.“

„Yeo Sang is back?“

„Yes, but, are you alright? I said we felt something like a sting.“

„Oh, no. Everything’s alright I don’t think I am in for it, tonight. Sorry...“

„Mh, okay. You would tell me when there’s something, right?“

You pause at his question. Lately you weren’t honest at all and now you feel like shit because they suddenly decide to connect you again. You sigh. Right now you’re with the charming boy and it would be rude to just leave.

„Of course I would.“ Lie

„Ok, then take care. I hope I am not annoying you.“

„You’re not! No, you’re not. I am happy you called me...“ You really were.

„Bye, (y/n).“

„Are you ok?“

„Ah, yes. My friend just worried for me.“

„Must be a good friend then.“ He lightly smiled at you and reached out his hand for you to take.

Just like Hong Joong never called you all thoughts to them vanish again when you take his hand and let him guide you back into the living room.

You make yourself comfortable in his embrace and you continue the movie. You are very aware on how his breath tickles the hair on your neck and you feel yourself heat up at the close approximation.

You try to hide your nervousness by ignoring him and playing like you don’t recognize his slow movements with his palm on your thigh.

„(y/n).“

You gulp and feel like your heart stops. His index finger lands under your chin and in the softest way he tilts your head so you’re facing him.

„Can I - I really want to kiss you... but I need your consent...“

You weakly nod at him already too engulfed in the moment. He flashes you a dazzling smile and you could swear you saw something flashing in his dark orbs at your answer.

Before you can think about it anymore his lips are pressed on your own trembling ones in a delicate way. You shudder at how aroused you feel and the sensation his touches leave on your form are overwhelming.

The hold on your thigh becomes tighter and with the other one his fingers start to caress your neck. He uses your moaning to explore your mouth with his tongue and it feels like you entered heaven.

When he starts to kiss down your chin and neck you quite overhear something he mumbles with a breathless voice.

„Mine...“

Too engulfed in the pleasure you’re receiving you don’t notice him taking your wrist carefully and kissing along your arm until he lands on the place where your mark is supposed to be.

You open your eyes when feel a tingling sensation there and suddenly hear voices in your head becoming louder and louder the more he sucks on there.

„What is happening?!“

„We have to find her!“

„Yeo Sang! Shit, help him up!“

„Stop!“

You lean back and he looks at you confused and concerned but it’s quickly replaced with a shy smile.

„What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?“ You frantically look around searching for something you don’t even know. Those voices...

„I - I have to go... I am sorry.“

„I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but it’s okay, we achieved a lot for today.“

What is he talking about?

Only now you see your display blinking up repeatedly and the missed calls and texts from the demons.

You sense him watching you out of your eyesight and quickly put your cellphone back.

„I will bring you back home.“

You nod when he stands up leaving you clutching at your wrist with a bad feeling.

The car ride is silent and you decide to use his concentration on the road to text into the group chat that you’re heading back to the dorms.

When you open the door all the boys are already scattered around leaving your roommate sitting uncomfortable on her bed and a sign of relief crosses her features when you enter the room.

Immediately Min Gi grabs your hand and drags you out again followed by the others.

„What are you - ?!“

Min Gi puts you with him in the back seat petting you everywhere and kissing your hair with a frown on his face. Jong Ho starts the engine and drives home so fast you don’t even want to know the limit you’re reaching.

„(y/n)...“ He whimpers out and you turn your head to see his face that is illuminated by the lamps of the road.

A tear is rolling down his features and you swear you’ve never seen Min Gi crying before and he also didn’t touch you like this ever.

He hides his face in your neck and starts to cry. „Please don’t leave us...“

You felt awful. Never ever have you felt so ashamed and disgusted by yourself. You let another man touch you and especially the holy place of your mark and now you would have to face the consequences.

Your heart hurt at the sight of him clutching at you like his life depended on it. He held you in his big embrace like you would vanish any second.

„I would never leave you.“ Now a single tear also rolled down your cheek.

All of you sat silently. Until Yun Ho decided to speak up...

„What did you to with Joo Hyuk?“

Everyone tensed up at his name but you only frowned at his question.

„What do you mean?“

„You know what I mean. If you wouldn’t be my bestfriend I would consider thinking of you as a bitch, (y/l/n) (y/n)!“

Totally confused you stood up and let out your anger by landing a full smack on his cheek.

„I am not a bitch, Jeong Yun Ho! I won’t lie that I didn’t do anything but at least I am not fucking around every weekend like you guys!“

Now it was your time to let out everything that boiled up in you.

„You’re not giving me attention! You’re not answering my texts! You don’t care at all! You’re saying you have feelings for me but you’re not!“

„Don’t say this, dear - “ Jong Ho eyes you with a soft look and tries to reach out for you but you hold your hand up to stop him.

„No! You’ve been hurting me and guess what? I can play the game, too!“

Behind you Woo Young and San tense up.

„You know they mean nothing for us...“

„It doesn’t matter, Jung Woo Young. It hurts me so much... How can I ever trust you when all you do is - do is - nothing?“

Again everyone remains silent and also Yun Ho takes a step back to sit down next to Seong Hwa who rubs his eyes tiredly.

„We can get through this. I know we can... I feel like those are all misunderstandings...“

Yeo Sang always was a person that liked the harmony and it showed again.

You weren’t so sure of his words and bit your lips so harshly that you draw blood letting the tears out again.

„Please, (y/n), we love you. We love you so much. Please don’t give up on us...“

„San is right... we all have to better ourselves. We have to talk and be honest with eachother. Respect us more. Love isn’t easy but I can proudly say that I would do anything for you and us to work.“

You look into Seong Hwa‘s eyes and feel your bond coming to life at his words.

„Like we already said... a demon love is so rare and beautiful like you are (y/n); but - we would never force you to something you don’t want. We will always love you and we want you to be happy... even if it’s without us.“ Hong Joong says eyeing all his brothers who flinch at his words but not say something against it either.

„Angel, I beg you, please... don’t be afraid to show your feelings.“ Yeo Sang seems like to stare into your soul and you know that he knows what you want to do right now.

So you do it. You fall into his arms and sob into his chest. You let it all out and you can fell someone embracing your from behind, too.

You heart feels at ease and you couldn’t say that for a long time. Especially at Yeo Sang‘s and Hong Joong‘s touches you feel the bond coming to life igniting a wonderful sensation inside your systems.

This night you decide to sleep at theirs but of course not without all of you making a sleepover in one room. Fortunately you are the girl and were able to sleep on Yeo Sang‘s bed between him and the leader.

Totally forgetting about Charming and the events of the previous night.

Well, all of you were to exhausted to talk this out so it had to be done in the morning.

Oh, and the questioning turned out more interesting than everyone would’ve thought.

You decide to text him. It was a shitty move especially after last night but it had to be done. Much to your disbelief he only sent you back a smiley leaving you utterly confused.

After the breakfast you gathered around in the garden to finally tell you the truth and discuss on how to deal with Joo Hyuk.

San and Woo Young have been especially clingy to you also feeling very bad about having you hurt so much. Honestly, San craved a lot of your attention and body but he didn’t want to scare you so he decided to distract himself. He really didn’t know it would bother you so much and now he was devastated realizing the shit he done...

„I cannot breath, Woo Young...“

„Oh sorry.“ He smirks at your playfully and you peck him on his lips catching him off guard.

They were all so beautiful but not only in features but character, too... Why did you only realize it now?

Yeah, dumb bitch.

After telling you everything about Joo Hyuk that he wants to claim you and that being the reason for the pain at your mark and also you sickness you gulped.

„Now we have to find a way to deliver the message that he should leave you alone.“

„Or we just kill him.“

You sink further into San‘s side and he gives Jong Ho a silent glare knowing exactly how you would react to something like that.

„Guys, ehm, yesterday...“

Oh, it’s really time you’re telling them about it.

„Yesterday I wasn’t with Joo Hyuk. To be honest, I didn’t see him since a week or more...“

„What? (y/n), you had a scent on yourself from a demon yesterday. Whoever you spent time with was a demon!“

Panick takes its place over everyone’s features at your words and Hong Joong‘s eyes turn into an angry red color.

„I knew she smelled different! Now I know what that smell is...“

„Who is it? Hyung? (y/n)?“

„I - I don’t know his name...“

„You went home with a stranger, made out and don’t even know his name?!“ Seong Hwa‘s definitely in his mother role right now and you look to the ground ashamed.

„I don’t know... He felt so safe and my mind told me not to question it - “

„Typical for a demon like him. He manipulated you quite well.“ Hong Joong spits out with fire and starts to walk in circles.

„I guess you have his number?“

You nod at Yeo Sang.

„Text him to meet at the sightseeing platform at the mountain in the west.“

„What are you planning?“

„Seems like he was able to ignite a strong spark in her but not when she’s with us.“

„What are you talking about?“

Woo Young smiles in mischief at his brothers while petting your head. „Eight mates are stronger than one.“

„Don’t worry, cupcake. You will understand soon.“

You waited for Charming at the point and couldn’t believe yourself when you stupidly smiled at him. From the distance he already waved at you and if it wasn’t for the demons behind the trees you feel like you would’ve fall for him easily again.

„You look cute today. I am happy you texted me so quickly... to be honest I was a little bit afraid after yesterday that it was too early for you.“

You wonder how someone can lie so effortlessly and shudder when he wraps his fingers around your wrist where your mark is located.

He leans down when you’re not answering and gulp nervously when he tries to kiss you...

„The nerve...“

San comes out next to you joined by the others and you can see Charming starting to smile with his crescent eyes.

„I shouldn’t have let you go yesterday, little bird.“ He nearly whispered it out and you tremble when he places a soft skin on our forehead.

„Touch her again and we will kill you, Cha.“

He turns around and San and Woo Young are quick to take you into their arms and lead you further away from the scene. The demon follows your form and you are suddenly scared by his intimidating eyes.

„Ah, Hong Joong... I feel like I’ve lost myself in the whole thing a little bit too much.“

„You just didn’t succeed, Eun Woo.“

„Yes, this time you won. Your little human is not as dumb as I thought.“

Ouch that hurt although you just figured out what an ass he is. Woo Young‘s arms tighten around your form and the others tense up. Jong Ho cracks his knuckles to warn the demon to insult you any more.

„Why did you do that?“

„Clearly not for claiming her. I wanted to take the one love like you did with me...“

„Mi Na murdered humans and it was our task to bring her down. We would’ve not killed her if there would’ve been another way.“ Seong Hwa speaks up.

„She had problems! Okay?! You didn’t understand her! No one did!“

Tears are floating down when reality crushes in... Eun Woo wanted to kill you... and if it wasn’t for the boys you would not be alive right now. Joo Hyuk only was a marionette in this game and you only realized it now...

„We don’t want to hurt you, Eun Woo... Take your claim off her and leave us alone.“

„I said we don’t want to hurt you but we will.“

You sensed the distress of your mates and watched how everyone got into a fighting position leaving Woo Young and San next to you ready to get out of the scene if needed.

Eun Woo looks around him and starts to understand that he’s overpowered. He lets out a disgusting cry full of pain and anger.

„I will take it back...“

Hong Joong gives the demons next to you a sign and they near the other demon with slowl steps. He reaches out his hand and San takes your wrist carefully and guides it into his direction.

Eun Woo looks at you with tears in his eyes and sadly although you hate him right now you can feel his pain. He positions his lips over your wrist and breathes in leaving you lightheaded and suddenly blacking out... you feel free and suddenly the clouds in your mind and the headache you didn’t even noticed anymore are gone.

You open your eyes rubbing them with your palms feeling like you just awakened from a deep slumber.

„Good morning, sunshine.“

„Yun Ho...“

„Yes, the one and only.“ He shoots you a radiant smile and suddenly the door bursts open the other demons literally running inside.

„Cupcake! You’re awake!“

„How long did I sleep?“

„29 hours.“

„What happened?“

„Everyhing is okay right now. He’s gone... back to the demon world to be exact and he took his minions with him.“ Yun Ho tells you while caressing your hand.

You sit up and look into your lap. „Thank you, for everything and I am very sorry.“

„Stop, (y/n). We’re together now and you’re safe. That’s all what matters.“

You smile at them tears of joy running down your cheeks.

„Are you ok to go downstairs and eat something? Woo Young tried to cook - “

Said boy rolls with his eyes. „I didn’t try! I trained a lot!“ You giggle at his words and Yun Ho motions for you to sit up and take his hand so he can help you.

Halfway out of the room you stop...

„Guys...“ Everyone turns around watching you with curiosity.

„I think I might start falling in love with you.“ You quickly close your eyes out of embarrassment and San comes to take your palms that shield your face away with his own hands.

„It isn’t that hard, right?“

You become red like a potato and stomp with your food. „But it is!“ Everyone laughs at your cuteness but it would definitely be a hard way to express your feeling like this more...

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author: Well, what a nice ending to this part!

wooyoung: Where’s my smut.

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↺ back to navi

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[willow-salix]

Day 2 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0 (Fluffember prompt : sky)

Day 2 of Isolation 2.0 on Tracy Island and...well I'll be honest, it's not been too bad yet. Everyone seems a lot more civilised than they were the first time, maybe because it's not as bad globally as it was back in… March was it? What year is this, do I still have my youth or have they sucked it out of me? 

Anyway, yes, they are better behaved than the first time, I guess because the shock's over with and it's been so long in a kind of half limbo that we're pretty used to it now. They spent the night trying to convince me that they had dragged me from my little witch cave for my benefit rather than theirs, they lie. 

Either way, they are slightly less rowdy, according to Jeff, slightly tidier, according to Grandma but still not at all self sufficient, according to John. 

I'd decided that, as I had little choice in the matter, I'd make the best of it. I strolled into the empty lounge, dropped my three bags on the floor, raised my arms and yelled at the top of my voice, "Honey, I'm home!" 

I don't know what I expected, maybe to be greeted enthusiastically, to have various family members run in from all directions, so happy and grateful to see me, I mean, I was pretty open to any display of affection, truth be told. 

But no, not one of them bothered to come and say hello. 

"I might as well go back home," I grumbled to Scott who had finished the post flight checks of One and ambled in after me. "I even brought snacks and I'm being ignored." 

"Snacks?" his hand was in the bag I indicated by kicking it with my toe before I'd even finished speaking. 

"Well, now I know why I was wanted," I sniffed. "Let me guess, food standards have slipped now that you've all eaten through the meals I left in the freezers last time I was here?" 

"That has nothing to do with why we wanted you," he assured me, flopping down on one of the couches with his pilfered bounty bar. He unwrapped the chocolate and bit into it, humming happily. "You always bring the best chocolate with you."

"Well, I don't like that American stuff you get," I dropped down beside him and stole the other half of the bar. 

"There's nothing wrong with American things," he argued. "Quality products from there."

My eyes slid sideways to look at him. "Dude, are you counting yourself as a quality product?" 

"Maybe," he didn't bother denying it. 

There wasn't much I could say to that really so I shifted the conversation. 

"Where are the other idiots?" 

He shrugged. 

"That's helpful, thanks." I sighed, resting my head back against the sofa. It was weird but this time really did feel so different, almost like it had been inevitable, we were just waiting for it to come.

"I'm not doing all the work this time," I warned him, "like, you guys are gonna have to step up, I refuse to be your maid and run around after you all like I did last time. New lockdown, new rules."

"We don't need a maid," he argued. "Is it so hard to believe that we just want you here so we're all together?" 

I shrugged, still feeling a bit like I'd been both blindsided and guilt tripped into it, not to mention feeling rather damp and itchy from the decontamination chamber Brains has forced me into. I told him that I'd been extra careful, that I'd been following the social distancing, yet he hadn't listened and still insisted that I needed to be blasted. 

"Here's the thing," he poked me to make sure I was listening. "Last time you were here to help us get through it. We were all feeling a bit helpless and frustrated and without you here distracting us and bossing us around, things would have been a lot worse. This time is different, this time it would be you stuck at home, we're still able to go out and do our jobs now, even though we're still getting fewer calls than normal and some countries aren't allowing entry, but because of that, as soon as your lockdown came in you would have been alone for a month."

"I think I could have handled that."

"Do you though, do you really?" 

I glanced at him, not detecting the teasing tone I had been expecting. Could I have handled it? So many people were stuck alone, unable to see their loved ones, their friends and family or to even go to work again. All the little things that make life more bearable and they had been taken away again. I like peace and quiet, but I knew he was right, being locked away, on my own for another month, maybe longer, it wouldn't actually be good for me.

"Admit it, you love us, you'd miss us."

"I admit nothing," but he was right, I would. I hadn't really thought about it, I guess that's what everyone is doing, trying not to think about it all too much but, while the thought of having a month at home, in peace and quiet sounded like a dream, I wouldn't actually want it. 

"You're back!" Alan yelled, cannonballing onto the sofa from parts unknown. 

"I guess so," I conceded, trying not to melt when he squished up beside me and stole the chocolate I'd been eating. 

"Do you mind?" I asked, purely because I felt I had to, not for any real need to tell him off. 

"Nope," he grinned, popping the bounty in his mouth. 

"Wait, that's…coconut," I trailed off as he gagged, looking for somewhere to spit it out. I handed him a tissue from my bag and he gratefully emptied his mouth. 

"This is going to be hell, isn't it?" I asked no one in particular. 

"Probably," Scott agreed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "But at least we'll all be together."

"Joy," I muttered but I did hug him back. 

"Are you going to keep a diary this time, too?" Alan asked, having recovered a bit. 

"I might," I hedged, not telling him that I'd started yesterday. "But I'm not doing it alone this time, you're all going to help me. Deal?" 

"Deal," he agreed. 

Gradually a few more wandered in, mostly to pick through my luggage like the vulture that they are, knowing that this time I had been wise enough to bring the contents of my fridge and half my cupboards with me. 

Gordon yoinked my pringles, Alan took my milkshake, Virgil helped himself to my chocolate chip cookies. 

"Hi," the normally beloved voice said behind me. 

I didn't turn around. "I blame you for the fact that I'm here again, you know that, right?" 

"Yep," John dropped down beside me on the couch, lifting his arm for me to snuggle under. 

"Cuddles will not make up for this betrayal," I warned him, not that it stopped me from taking advantage of it. Any Tracy in a storm and all that, plus this one might be the best, though I am slightly biased. 

"We appreciate your sacrifice," he told me solemnly. "And to show our appreciation, we organised a little something."

"You did?" Did I sound sceptical? I believe I did. 

"We did!" Alan joined in. "We did some research and found that it's traditional to eat baked potatoes and chilli tonight."

"It is?" I frowned, wracking my brains as to what the heck he was talking about. I was also slightly worried about who had done the cooking. 

"Yes," John got up, dragging me to my feet and propelled me towards the windows. He nodded to Virgil, who messaged Brains, saying something I couldn't hear. 

As one, all the other idiots surrounded us, all looking up, heads tipped back expectantly, like baby birds awaiting food. 

"What are we doing?" I asked, completely confused. 

"It's November 5th," Scott answered. "Remember, remember the 5th of November." 

Oooooh. I didn't have time to answer as the first rocket shot up into the air, exploding in a burst of colour and sound, lighting up the dark night sky... 

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XII

Jason is a CEO: Part XII

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

Just wanted to say thank you for being so patient with me. It means more than you could ever know. I love you guys! Please enjoy.

TW: violence

I hope you understand

you need your own love

more than they do.

-Dhiman

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m currently unavailable. Please contact my office if you need to get a hold of me.

The music blasted in his ears, rattling every cell in his brain, shutting down each transmitter, pounding against every cage. It was not loud enough, he could still feel his heart, could still hear things. The treadmill under his feet beeped as he increased the speed again. Why wasn’t this working? Why was he still here? He’d been running so long he should be on Mars by now.

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m currently unavailable. Please contact my office if you need to get a hold of me.

FUCK.

He jumped off the machine and flung his phone across the room. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough to do this.

His phone went off again, and he’s annoyed he didn’t break it in his rage. Apparently even destroying something was an impossibility for him. The thought was so pathetic he couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh.

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m curr–

“Okay!” He yelled, “I’m answering the fucking call. Just shut up.” He stabbed at the screen until the dial tone started up again.

“Jase?” Annabeth Chase sucked in a breath.

“Yes, what is wrong?” He knew he was being rude but he didn’t feel like it. Didn’t want what was about to happen.

“Can we come in?”

“You guys are outside my apartment?” He scowled.

“Uh yes,” She winced, “We tried knocking but you didn’t answer.”

He cut the call and walked to the front door, yanking it open with enough force to rattle the hinges.

“What do you want?”

Leo Valdez just levelled his gaze at him and stepped into the room.

“Guys, I know you mean well but I really don’t have the energy for this.”

They both ignored him, putting down the shopping bags on his kitchen counter and shoving stuff in the fridge. Leo hit the button on the coffee machine and grabbed three mugs from the cupboard.

Jason didn’t even have the strength to ask what was going on, he just collapsed onto a bar stool and put his head to the cool marble. His friends moved around him in silence, putting things away, washing the minimal dishes in the sink, and straightening the pillows on the couch. Eventually he felt them come nearer, leaning against the counter and looking at him.

“Jase,” Annabeth said softly, “Please look at us.”

He debated pretending he was asleep, but he knew they wouldn’t fall for it. With a deep breath he raised his head and stared into their matching eyes of love.

“Stand up,” Leo requested, voice gentle.

He felt his lip wobble, felt his throat close up. But he stood.

“Come here my darling.” They held out their arms.

He looked at them and collapsed to the floor, sobs catching like swords in his chest. They enveloped him as his tears soaked their clothes. He heaved with heart ache and loneliness, betrayal.

“I can’t do this,” He cried, anguish a serrated edge on his tongue. “I can’t do this.”

The just kept holding him. His friends for these years. His family through it all. They sat on the floor trying to catch all the pieces of him that broke off with each sob, not a word to interrupt his grief. And when the day blackened as dark as his lungs, they held each other by the light of the moon, and let the stars witness the destruction they caused.

***

Jason walked into his office for the first time in a week and pretended to be on a call as he avoided the chatter his employees would undoubtedly try to engage him in. A tight-lipped smile and an apologetic motion at his phone left them in their seats and far away from him. He wouldn’t be here for long. No he just had to sort out a few things and then he was packing up his crushed elation and taking himself to a place no-one save for the birds would be able to talk to him.

His office was just the way he left it, some documents neatly piled on his desk waiting for his approval, the blinds half closed so the sun still filtered in but didn’t blind, and his computer opened to the email he had been typing to Zoe about a holiday they should go on. It took everything in him not to smash the screen with the little cactus paperweight Hazel had bought him.

“Boss,”

Think of the assistant and they shall appear.

“Yes,” He didn’t bother to look up as he shuffled through the awaiting files.

“How-“ She gulped, ‘How are–“

“Levesque,” His voice was cold but it was the only way to get through this, “I mean this in the nicest way possible. Please don’t ask me that. Thank you for being concerned.”

She nodded, jaw-snapping shut, but he could see all the questions burning in her eyes. Instead she released a shaky breath and asked, “Will you be back at work full time? I just need to know if I should be transferring calls to you or putting in an out of office notification.”

He frowned, mulling it over. He could work, he should work. But everything reminds him of his failures. Of the things he didn’t see coming. And his job was nothing if not full of surprises. As he’s about to tell her his decision his phone rang.

His sister’s name flashed across the screen and he knew he couldn’t keep avoiding her.

“Fina-fucking-ly.” She grumbled, “Gees Jase. It’s like you’re purposefully ignoring me. Are you ready for today?”

He was so caught off by her question he forgot all about telling her the news. “Today?”

“Do not tell me you forgot,” She sighed, “We’re supposed to meet Octavian today. Give the idiot a piece of our mind.”

“Oh,” He muttered eloquently, “Are we still doing that?”

“Well I don’t know about you but I’m pretty pissed he dared to hurt one of our own so yes I do think we’re still doing that. Also this is the only day Bianca has so get your ass out of your office and meet me outside Titan Industries in twenty.”

With that the phone gave an obnoxious beep and the screen went dark. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to gather the scattered thoughts in his mind.

“We’ll talk later,” Hazel, still waiting at the door, nodded before waving a goodbye and disappearing into her office.

Sighing he gathered his things and trudged down to his car. Might as well get this over with and then tell his sister about Zoe. No matter what had happened between them Octavian still deserved whatever was coming for him. What he did was abominable.

The Titan Industries building loomed over him as he parked the car in a loading zone and hopped out. He was being that dick today, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Thalia swerved in next to him and behind her an array of cars stopped. A team of suited people poured out, black glasses, and head pieces to match. It looked fake enough to be comical. But then a woman in four-inch heels, a gunmetal coloured suit and a smile made from terror stepped out and he knew it was anything but fake. Or funny. She was the single scariest thing he had ever laid eyes on, and he knew what his sister looked like angry.

“Bianca!” Thalia jumped excitedly, racing towards the woman. They embraced with a laugh and a quick catch up. She fist-bumped a few of the bodyguards and then walked towards him.

“Di Angelo,” She smiled, “Please meet my brother Jason and the reason we’re here today.”

“Oh I know all about Jason,” Her voice was low but clear, like everything she said had purpose.

“You do?” He tried not to let the shock take over his features.

“I know everyone who hangs out with my brother. If they don’t get clearance from me they disappear.” She said it with such casualness he would have thought she was joking if the gleam in her black eyes didn’t hold a challenge.

‘Well,” He laughed awkwardly, “Glad I meet your approval.”

She just tilted her head and looked at him. A panther waiting to pounce. A competition waiting to be won.

Thalia who looked entirely too amused clapped her hands, “Shall we then? I wore my blood-stained pants for this.”

“Period stains or other stains?” Bianca asked, mirth dancing on her lips.

His sister just snorted and pushed open the Brobdingnagian door. None of Bianca’s bodyguards followed them in but he knew it didn’t matter. Between her and Thalia he doubted they would be needed.

“We’re here to see Octavian.”

The receptionist gave them a sickly-sweet smile, “Do you have a meeting?

“Tell him it’s Jason Grace from Anemoi Empires.”

Moments later they were being escorted into an elevator and taken up to the big boss himself.

“And what do we have here?” An oily voice grinned, “An intervention? Interrogation? Investment?”

“Octavian Haruspex,” Bianca drawled, examining her long black nails briefly.

“And who might you be?” He snooted, giving her a filthy look.

She smiled slowly and Jason swore the temperature in the room plummeted.

“Does it really matter who I am?”

“Greatly,” The blonde sniffed, leaning against his desk with arrogance, “I prefer to know who I’m speaking to.”

Her laugh was razor sharp as she focused her glittering eyes on him. “Bianca Di Angelo.”

Those pale blue eyes widened, shuttered, blinked. That was all the surprise he would show.

“And what is the Queen of the Underworld doing in my building? With these,” He pulled his face into a look of distaste, “With company such as them.”

Thalia growled, “I’d watch how you speak boy.”

He deigned to laugh, “What are you going to do? This is my empire. You’re just visiting.”

“She’s right,” Bianca said softly, moving to stand by the window.

“What do you want?” He scoffed, “I have work to do.”

“Piece of shit.” Jason muttered, fingers curling into fists at his side.

“I’m not the one who strung your company along for weeks only to deny them the greatest investment opportunity money could buy.” That greasy smile was back.

It took everything in him not to reach over and smack it off his face. “We’re not three-year olds Octavian. Sometimes business doesn’t work out. What you did–“ He breathed, anger making the room red, “What you did was disgusting.” He can feel the exhaustion tugging in his spine. Like a weighted chain wrapping around him.

“What I did?” He raised a bleached brow, “And what exactly did I do Jason Grace?”

“Okay,” Bianca sighed, like she was already bored with the conversation, ‘I’ve had just about enough of this.”

Before anyone could blink a dagger was embedded in Octavian’s table, millimeters from his fingers.

“Bitch!” He cursed, ripping his hand away from the shining blade. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“We don’t believe in lawsuits Octavian. It’s no necessary when people like you deserve to rot at the bottom of a sewer.” Thalia spat.

For the first time since they came in, Jason could see a flicker of fear in the man’s pale face.

“Fuck you,” He grunted, “You can’t prove jackshit.”

“We don’t have to prove anything.” Bianca grinned, “That’s not how street justice works.”

And before he can say another word, she was standing in front of him a second dagger titling his chin up and laughter playing in her eyes, “Now listen, if you ever, and I mean ever touch Jason, his associates, his family, his friends, the person he blinks at on the sidewalk, ever again I will have you erased so violently history will not be able to string the letters of your name together.”

A tiny drop of bright red blood fell to Octavian’s crisp white shirt as his glared at the woman in his space. “Fuck you.”

“Not even if it meant I could rule heaven,” She giggled coldly.

Her face pulled taut, “They are under my protection, from now until the Ouija boards can longer summon me in my grave. If you or your own ever go near them.” She snapped her teeth at him, “Well let’s just say my bodyguards are very creative with their outdoor activities.”

A dark stain spread over Octavian’s grey pants and Jason had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Fucking coward. Can order a person to stab someone but cannot even handle a little threat.

“Don’t bother doing business on our side of town again.” He hissed. The man didn’t say anything as they turned away. The dull crack of a bone echoed behind him and Jason turned to see his sister leaning over a bloody Octavian, shaking out her hand.

“That was for stabbing my friend, you fucker.”

Through his red teeth he grinned at her, “Your friend huh?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” His sister spat.

The vile man turned towards him, “And has she broken up with you yet?”

Jason wanted to strangle the smirk of his face, wanted to throw up. “It’s none of your business.”

“Isn’t it?” Octavian smiled.

“Come on Jase,” Thalia tugged at his arm, “He’s not worth it.”

He let her drag him away, but the businessman’s unsettling grin played a loop in his head. There was something distinctly wrong about the situation. He had the eery feeling he wasn’t done with Octavian Haruspex just yet.

When they finally made it outside, the sun was still shining brightly as if what occurred could never stain the glory of the world. They said their thank you’s and goodbyes to Bianca and her team of people, Thalia promising to come around soon.

“So,” She grinned at him, “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” He rolled his shoulders, “That wanker got what he deserved but it didn’t make me feel better.”

In a rare moment she opened her arms, a silent offering. He stepped into them without hesitation and drooped onto her shoulder.

“Thals–“ He mumbled, trying to keep the tears at bay, “Zoe and i–“

“I know Jase,” She hugged him tighter. “She called me. Said to tell you she’ll never be sorry enough.”

The dam inside him burst, “Everyone is always sorry. But does anybody actually care?”

She stroked her hands over his back and carried his burden on her shoulders too.

“I think,” She said after a moment, “I think you should go away for a little while. You haven’t had a proper break in nearly three years.”

“Where will I go?” His blue eyes were blurry with tears.

“We have that house in Panarea.” Her voice was soft, soothing in his ear. ��Maybe go there for a little while.”

“And what about Project Hestia? And the company? You know I’m starting the Conservation Conversations initiative after Hestia and there’s still so much to close up for the mini projects, and I have that water–“

“Jase!” She frowned, her blue eyes matching his glinted with sternness, “Your company will survive without you for a week or two. Hell it’ll survive for one or two months. But you aren’t going to survive another day if you don’t get some rest.”

“I just–“ He sighed, “I feel bad for abandoning everyone.”

“If you don’t stop, you’ll abandon us permanently and I will literally bring you back to just to kill you myself if you do that.” She squeezed him, “So just go to Italy for a little while. If you want, I’ll stay here and keep things in line. I’m sure Leo and Beth know what to do where I don’t. And Hazel is more than competent enough. Not to mention Frank.”

He took a deep breath, letting the options buzz around in his mind.

“I swear if you come up with one more excuse I’m going to duct-tape your mouth and ship you off myself.”

He gave a burst of laughter and wiped at his eyes, “Okay, okay. I’m going to Panarea. But you have to let me get my life sorted first. I’m not just packing up and taking the first flight out.”

“Deal,” Thalia smiled, and when she gave him one last hug, he realised there were some things in the world he would never want to control.

***

“Okay,” He popped his head around the door, “Flight is booked for two weeks from now.”

She gave him a thumbs up, “And you’re sure you’re okay to go?”

“I’m fine, you worry pot. I promise I’m not going to crumble to dust.”

“Okay,” She looked dubious, “It just seems like you got over all of this really quickly.”

“It was coming for a while,” He shrugged, “She is magnificent, but she isn’t mine.”

“I’m just worried you’re suppressing your feelings and as soon as you have five minutes to breathe, you’re just gonna break down instead.”

“I promise if I breakdown I’ll call you to come get me,” He laughed, “Now, how about we go over the checklist for the trip. And don’t forget to book a hotel for me please.”

“Where are you going again?”

Gorgeous eyes glittered as he caught the sunset lighting up the room in dainty colours. Gods he loved the sun. Loved that no matter what it rose and fell every day and the way it changed colours each evening and again each morning. The way it astounded him no matter how it looked.

“Daydreamer?” Rachel prompted.

“Oh,” He blinked back into the world, “I’m going to Panarea.”

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

What in the world is going on?????

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts​

@leydiangelo​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​

@msdrpreist​

@sparkythunderstorm​

@nishlicious-01​

@lucyisblue​

[holywaterandlove]

Hawks x reader 💕

The music from your speaker blared freely and into the world. Words of inspiration flowed through you and pushed you into the light.

“Let’s break it-“ You sang raising your metal bar.

“JUST BECAUSE WE CAN!” The bat hit the window of the hero commission building, shattering it on impact.

“DEFACE IT-“ another raise of your arms and the bat shattered another window.

“Just because we can.” Your body felt like it was on fire for the first time in your life. Your eyes twinkled with fiery, fueling your body with more adrenaline.

“Y/n!” A shout was heard from behind you. You turned swinging the bat near your feet.

“Yes bird man?” Hawks stared at you, a frown replacing his usual smirk.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You chuckled at his question

“Something you couldn’t.” His frown deepened

“We had a plan-“

“YEA WE HAD A PLAN!” Your anger took control and you swung your bat at the building again. Your quirk activating itself, making the impact 20x more powerful. Causing the window and part of the wall to blow right off.

“THEN... then.” The memory was only a flash but it fueled your pain and fiery more. You turned once again towards the pro hero.

“Then the commission killed them... “

“They knew what they were getting into y/n-“

“Shut up! Shut up right now before I turn you into roadkill !” You slammed your fist into the bricks behind you.

“You were supposed to have my back Hawks! But your double agent shit was more important than me!” The anger boiling inside slowly went down as sadness and disappointment replaced it.

“What happened to our two birds in one egg shit? What we had was rare Hawks! They ruined you!”

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else Y/n, they’re probably coming right now and this won’t end well” hawks took a step forward making you step back. His hand reached for yours in a plead.

“Yea.. it won’t end well for them.” You turned back to the crumbling building, swinging your bat at another window. This time activating your quirk on purpose causing a whole wall to break. You could hear footsteps approaching now. A smirk arised on your face, your hand gripped the metal turning your knuckles white. You were ready for a fight, even if it caused your demise.

“Hello heroes!” You worked your dramatics turning around. There stood some of the people on top. Endeavor, Mount lady, and midnight you recognized as some.

“Welcome to the show. I like to call it; the end of an era of corruption! Would you like to see how it ends?” The bat was now resting on your shoulder, waiting to be used.

“No because I already know the ending. You in jail and us being applauded.” Endeavors flames arose more as he talked, probably trying to be intimidating.

“Wrong! Anyways...hawks.. whAt side will you be on this time?” Hawks scowled as his shoulders tensed. He raised one of his bigger feathers, pointing it at you.

“You should already know Y/n.” No one could miss your face of disappointment and betrayal as you tightened your hand on the bat.

“Fine by me Bird brain!” Raising the metal in the air you threw it towards the group, in a boomerang style. Your quirk making the throw stronger and faster. As the bat reached the group, hitting mount lady in her face, Hawks turned and surprised you. Raising his feather he slashed endeavor in the leg, taking him down for count as well.

“You should’ve known I’d choose you Y/n. It’s always you.” Still shocked with the sudden turned tables you didn’t notice midnight behind you.

“Duck!” Hawks yelled, you gave a look of confusion before crouching. One of his feathers grazing the top of your head.

“Ouch!” Midnight was now down for the count.

“Kind of ironic isn’t it?”

“This isn’t a time for a monologue hawks!” You wiped yourself off as you stood, getting closer to the bird man.

“It’s always time for a mo-“ flames cut his sentence short, one of his wings catching fire. As anyone would do, he stopped,dropped, and rolled. You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene. But realizing the situation you got serious once again and screamed.

“You fucker!” But it wasn’t endeavor like you thought. It was his son, shoto. “Not these shits.”

“I don’t hurt children if I don’t have to.” You warned.

“Well I hurt scum like you.” The todoroki responded making your eyes widen.

“What about your father?” You heard all about the troubles from hawks. Dabi, the fire bender of the LOV, was actually Touya Todoroki. Talk about family drama.

“I know what my father has done. I experienced it.” The boys face was monotone as ever. You were about to break this kid just so you could survive. ‘Please forgive me Jesus’

“Oh so you know how that villain Dabi is actually your brother Touya...” the kids stone face cracked, a look of confusion replaced it.

“What?” All mights successor was next to step up, trying to comfort the half and half boy, as he also tried facing you.

“That’s not true todoroki. She’s a liar! Just like the rest of them.” A scowl replaced your smirk and you pointed your finger at the green haired kid.

“What about you kid? You’re hiding the biggest secret of them all!” His face dropped and yours lit up again. This was too easy.

You continued.. “and let’s not forget how the hero’s are using you all as child solidiers! How many broken arms have you gotten just this year Izuku?” Izuku looked like he was about to pounce but another kid stepped in. Bakugou was it?

“Calm down deku... she’s kind of right.” He looked bored, as if you weren’t gonna do anything.

“Finally someone listens!” Hawks was now next to you, a strong smell of fire on him.

“Don’t be too confident, this could be a tactic.” The male whispered wiping off ash from his jacket.

“What has UA done for us?” The electric kid joined in.

“All we’ve been doing is getting into trouble! How many villains have we taken down and gotten hurt-Almost Killed! because they weren’t there!?”

“I-“ izukus face dropped, a look of realization mixed with sadness replaced his usual determined one.

“Go.” The todoroki kid spoke up. “Before we change our mind.” And you did. You grabbed hawks and tried your best to run while supporting him.

“Those damn kids!” He chuckled. “They’re doing better than we ever could.”

“Yea they are.” You glanced back with a smile. “They will be the ones to change history. With or without us.” Hawks stifled a laugh as you pulled him a lil harder.

“Should we take you to a hospital?”

“No they’ll be looking for us. Take me to the league.”

Your eyes widened at that sentence. “I’ve never been there or met them. Won’t they try to kill me?”

“Not if I explain who you are to me.” You looked down at his slumped form.

“And who am I to you?” His cheeks blushed a light pink as he looked up to you.

“ my girlfriend. Maybe? Please?” His eyes twinkled as he stared up at you. The question made you stop in your tracks.

“Yes! I mean sure. If that’s what you want?” You both were red now and hawks grasped your face gently.

“I’d love that.” And now you two were kissing. Yay!

The end happy live story

A/n the ending was rushed but here y’all are.

Hope you are having a wonderful day/night!

[kumeko]

A/N: For Crossed Realms zine! I decided to crossover with FF15 and do the rewrite I always wanted to fix the tonal issues I had with the game.

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i. Dedue

The prince was angry. Dedue knew that intuitively, could feel the rage rolling off Dimitri in waves. It was not obvious to most people—even his retainers and childhood friends couldn’t always recognize the conflicting emotions that constantly shimmered under the prince’s skin. Then again, Dimitri tended to hide his true emotions behind his manners. Even now, as they walked through the halls, the maids and household staff bowing as they passed, Dimitri didn’t let his rage show. He greeted each one with a smile, thanking them for their work. It could be forgiven if they thought he was in a good mood.

Yet, Dedue knew better. Dimitri’s hand was curled into a fist, his shoulders square, his footsteps slightly louder than they needed to be. All of his innate strength seeped out of him in the smallest of ways, barely restrained. Dedue had often wondered just how much minuscule damage the castle could take, how many generations had released their anger onto its sturdy bricks.

Still, there was no point in asking his highness about it. Experience had taught him that Dimitri wouldn’t talk about it until they were alone. Fortunately, it didn’t take them long to reach a deserted hallway, utterly clear of any eavesdroppers.

Immediately, Dimitri’s smile dropped, his pace slowing slightly. His brow furrowed and each step sent off a wave of tremors. “This is ridiculous,” he finally uttered.

This was the chance he’d been waiting for. Dedue clasped his hands behind his back. “What is, your highness?”

Dimitri gave him a sharp look. “I thought you agreed to drop formalities when we are alone?”

“I...” Dedue swallowed, remembering. His tongue felt heavy as he repeated, “What is, Dimitri?”

He smiled sunnily before the clouds reappeared once more. “This sham of an engagement.”

Dedue blinked, surprised. Over the years, he had occasionally caught Dimitri in a forlorn mood, longing staring out his windows in the direction of Garreg Mach. It hadn’t taken long to guess just whohe had thought of in those quiet moments or why he would smile sadly when alone. “I thought you wanted to marry Byleth.”

Immediately, Dimitri coloured. “That…it’s not that I don’t…” Utterly red, the anger washed off him for a moment and he ducked his head bashfully. His voice softened. “It’s not that.”

“Then…what is the problem, Dimitri?” He could live to a hundred and not be used to saying the prince’s name, to acting like their positions meant nothing.

The smile dropped, though Dimitri’s cheeks remained slightly flushed. Clearing his throat, he stood straight once more, though his anger was far less palpable than before. “I shouldn’t leave my country. Not now, when the Empire could crush us at any minute.” His jaw tightened. “I should stay and protect my people. My marriage…it is nothing compared to my duties.”

Gently, Dedue squeezed Dimitri’s stiff shoulders. “This will protect your people. Byleth is the archbishop, after all. Once she arrives in Faerghus, we will be under her protection.”

“I…” Dimitri softened once more, no doubt thinking about her. “I wish I didn’t have to rely on her for this, that I could protect us with my own strength.”

“You have,” Dedue replied firmly, shaking his head slowly. He would never be able to describe how he felt when Dimitri had grabbed his hands all those years ago, dragging a poor refugee from the slums to the castle. “And you will. This will reduce bloodshed and possibly deter the empire. There might not be a war.”

“Still...” Dimitri shifted uneasily before stilling entirely. “I wish I did not have to involve her in this at all. That our marriage was not based on this need. Besides, while this is all true, Ido not need to escort her here. You or Ingrid could guide her here—I do not want to leave my people in a time like this.”

Dedue shook his head. He never understood why Dimitri always complicated matters like this, why it was always so hard for him to accept the simple truths in life. Then again, the prince had often said the same about him, and perhaps they were both obtuse in their own ways.

“Her archbishop needs protection to reach here, protection that only you can give. I am not strong enough to protect her.” Dedue smiled sadly, more than aware of how weak he truly was. Compared to the strength of Dimitri’s other guards, nobles who had trained their entire lives to protect the crown, his own powers were paltry. The most protection he could provide was as a shield.

Dimitri’s frown grew deeper, unable to refute that. “I suppose.”

“I am certain she is looking forward to this too. She wants to see you,” Dedue added. It was a half lie. From what little he’d heard and seen of Byleth, it was impossible to read her emotions. But he’d seen the letters they’d exchanged, carried by an invisible, sardonic goddess. Dimitri’s safe was full of them, biweekly letters carried throughout the years.

That had to mean something.

“That’s not why I—” Dimitri flushed once more, the red reaching his ears now.

Dedue rarely disagreed with Dimitri if he could help it. Yet, in matters of his prince’s happiness or safety, he had to intervene. “Despite the pretenses leading to the engagement, it is also real.”

For a second, hope crossed Dimitri’s face. Then, just as quickly, it disappeared, leaving behind a cold expression. Teeth clenched, lips in a straight line, eyes hard—Dedue felt a shiver run up his spine as he slowly looked down the hallway. There was only one person in the castle who caused such a reaction.

Dimitri’s uncle walked toward them, his steps echoing in the hall.

Another good reason to get Dimitri out of the castle. Dedue wanted to take him as far from that man as possible.

ii. Felix

Under a blazing sun, crystal clear waves lapped a sandy beach. Birds trilled as they flew from palm tree to palm tree, and fish swam under the sparkly waters. In the distance, sea gulls cried.

This was paradise.

Felix hated it. An utterly frivolous tourist destination, Rhodos Coast wasn’t the kind of place he’d visit on his own if he had a choice. If he wanted to relax, he’d have stayed home. There was nothing calming about the way the sand burned beneath his rear as he sat. Unfortunately, he was alone in this thought; the rest of his companions were happily scattered along the beach.

“How can you be so grumpy even here?” Sylvain bemoaned, crouching in front of Felix. Dressed in swimming trunks and with a fruity drink in hand, he looked like he was at a party and not part of a prince’s guard. “This place is beautiful!”

The bastard was just out of reach for punch, but not for a sword. Felix contemplated the merit of sullying his blade with the wastrel’s blood. “This is a waste of time,” he growled.

“How?” Sylvain’s eyes widened, his expression guileless. Felix knew better than to believe that. “We’re relaxing.”

“We are supposed to get the archbishop,” Felix replied sharply, irritated. It wasn’t like this pretense of a mission wasn’t a waste of time anyways. No matter how important Byleth was, she didn’t need five people to retrieve her. Even if she did, with the boar prince around, they didn’t need the sword, spear, and shield of Faerghus all gathered together. “Not party.”

“We’re here for an engagement, this is a bachelor party,” Sylvain corrected smoothly, rolling his eyes. He stood up now and stared down at Felix. “You can have a little fun without the world ending.”

“And you can have a little less fun without dying,” Ingrid retorted, standing behind him. Her sleeves were rolled up, her usually neat braid slightly mused. She held a crab in hand and he didn’t have to ask to know she’d caught it herself. Unlike the idiot, she at least was still in her uniform, albeit a more relaxed version. Her jacket was nowhere in sight, her collar loosened, and with her sleeves and pants all rolled up, she might as well have changed clothing.

Sylvain groaned, turning his head as Ingrid dropped the crab into Dimitri’s fish bucket. She’d probably catch more than the prince did, considering how impatient he was.

“Come on, Ingrid, not you too.” He looked at her pleadingly, eyes wide, lip jutted out in a pout. It was a look that worked on most. “We’re at the beach! It won’t kill us to have a little fun.”

However, a lifetime had given Ingrid immunity to Sylvain’s begging. She rested her hand on her hip, frowning. “Look, Sylvain, this isn’t a vacation. We’re catching the ferry for Garreg Mach tomorrow. Could you please take this a little more seriously, before you offend some noble?”

“We’re going to war anyways,” Felix replied, shrugging at the worry. “Who cares how it was triggered?”

“Felix.” Ingrid changed her focus to him and gave him the grumpiest look. At least it wasn’t her glare.

“You two are terrible, I would never start a war.” Sylvain clutched his chest, faking shock. Getting over the betrayal rapidly, he smiled sunnily at them once more. “We’re taking a break today, remember?”

“Just because we’re waiting for the ferry,” Felix corrected.

“And this is Dimitri’s last day as a bachelor,” he continued, ignoring Felix entirely. “We have to throw him a bachelor party, guys—sure, maybe he can’t have a stripper or any of those fun things, but still. It’s the principle that matters.”

“This is what you preserve your principles for?” Ingrid hissed, unable to contain herself.

“You’re the only one who cares,” Felix replied at the same time.

“Dimitri cares,” Sylvain argued back, gesturing at the prince. “He’ll only get married once. Probably. And shouldn’t we make this a memorable time for him?”

Felix and Ingrid followed Sylvain’s arm to where Dimitri stood in the shallows of the lake, his pants rolled up as he slowly walked parallel to the shoreline. Noticing their stares, Dimitri waved at them invitingly, a smile on his face. By his side, a slightly tense Dedue glanced around warily, as though a monster would pop out of the depths and eat Dimitri alive.

“Well…” Ingrid softened. As usual. Sylvain’s charms might never have worked on her, but he’d always been good at persuasion. “I suppose it’ll make him happy…”

Felix rolled his eyes, not falling for his childhood friend’s usual tricks. “This is a waste of time,” he repeated. The prince would also smile when he saw Byleth, if that’s what they were after.

“Party pooper,” Sylvain sniped, and that was the only warning Felix got before a bucket of water showered him from above, drenching him entirely.

Felix sat there for a long second, his clothes clinging to his body like a second skin, before leaping to his feet. “SYLVAIN.”

No one would complain if they ‘lost’ Sylvain. It wasn’t like they needed him to protect the prince after all.

iii. Ingrid

Ingrid knew the sound of death. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t choked tears or heart-wrenching wails. Those came after, when a person processed what had happened, when people tried to put words to their feelings. The sound of death was just this: utter silence.

She had experienced it once, long ago, when the Empire had attacked. They had fended off the soldiers, protecting Dimitri, but not before his parents died. Not before Glen, Felix’s brother, her fiancé, died. It had been silent then as well, when she’d received the news. Everything froze, time stood still, and Ingrid had heard the deafening roar of silence before Sylvain had grabbed her, hugging her tight.

Her ears rang now too as she stood on a ridge overlooking the Faerghus capital. Sylvain was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything as she stared at the smouldering ruins of her home. When she’d heard the news at the docks, that the Empire had attacked, she hadn’t believed it. How could they have struck the heart of Faerghus again? After everything they’d done to bolster its protections?

And yet, it was true. Ingrid didn’t blink, unable to tear her eyes away from the destroyed city before her. Whatever buildings still standing were broken, their walls scorched black from explosions and fire. An acrid scent assaulted her senses, the smell of burning bodies, and suddenly time moved once more. On her right, Dimitri stared in horror, his feet rooted to the ground. Dedue glanced at him worriedly. She should help. She should go to him.

Her feet wouldn’t move.

Felix didn’t move either, but not for a lack of trying. Sylvain had somehow sensed it ahead of time, locking him down by tightly winding his arm around Felix’s in a desperate attempt to get him to stay. He pleaded, “We have to go.”

Felix didn’t bother to reply, his eyes flashing with fury as he strained tor run forward. No doubt he wanted to fight whatever enemies remained, get revenge for their people’s deaths.

Ingrid covered her mouth, realization dawning. Felix’s parents. Her own parents. It was impossible to believe they survived but she refused to think otherwise. They had to be alive. She stepped forward, and Sylvain turned to her, eyes wide as he tried to grab her arm. “Ingrid! Don’t!”

“There could be survivors,” she shouted back, already scanning the ridge for the quickest way down. The slope to the city was too steep to walk, but if she tied a rope around her waist, she could scale it. “We have to save them!”

“We have to protect Dimitri,” he argued, struggling to keep a grip on Felix and stop her at the same time. “We have to leave!”

“I’m going down there,” Felix growled, trying to yank free. There was murder in his voice and any other time, she would have been on Sylvain’s side, keeping his rage in check.

“You’ll die!” Sylvain snarled, his temper no longer in check. “You’ll both die!”

“If we can save someone—”

“THERE MIGHT NOT BE ANYONE!” Sylvain roared, cutting her off as he said what they were all thinking, what they all knew instinctively.

For a long moment, she and Felix stared at him, eyes wide. Before she could reply, there was an almost inhuman cry from her right. Her head snapped to her right to find Dimitri crying out, a strangled sound escaping his lips. With his wild expression, it was like something in him snapped. Nothing about her childhood friend looked princely right now. No, he looked more like a rabid animal, barely restrained.

The second he stepped forward, Ingrid knew that if she didn’t stop him here, there would be no saving him. She didn’t spare a second glance at the city, at the direction her house was, and instead dashed toward Dimitri. “You can’t!”

“Don’t!” Dedue shouted at the same time, grabbing Dimitri by the shoulders.

Enraged, Dimitri tried to shove him away, his monstrous strength directed at them for once. Ingrid grabbed his other arm, gritting her teeth as his rage turned to her now. “We have to go!” she begged, echoing Sylvain’s words. Behind her, the city burned, and she swallowed down her sorrow. “There’s nothing for us here.”

Only death, and she couldn’t stand the sound of it anymore.

iv. Sylvain

Sylvain was used to being the joker of the group. When his friends consisted of the serious Ingrid, the noble Dimitri, the stoic Felix, and the silent Dedue, it was almost a matter of survival. They spent too much time in their heads, overthinking things, refusing to crack so much as a smile. It was a dreary way to live, and Sylvain had enough of that with his own family. If someone had to remind his friends how to loosen up, how to have fun, well, he’d gladly take the job.

Yet, despite a lifetime of practice, his silver tongue failed him now. There wasn’t a joke or a flirt that could change the fact that Faerghus was gone. There was a smouldering crater where their capital used to be, the Empire was invading any smaller cities that haven’t surrendered already, and who knew where their families were. Smoke continued to rise from the capital, mixing with the stormy clouds above.

Even now, he could smell the charred bodies, hear Dimitri’s pained cry, feel Felix’s muscles strain as he tried to charge off into a doomed battle. It might have only been days since the incident, but Sylvain had a feeling he would remember this sensation even years from now. A feeling of helplessness washed over him and Sylvain forced it down.

There wasn’t time for that, not when everyone else was moping around. Sylvain slapped his cheeks, forcing himself to focus on the present. Around him, survivors bustled, and Sylvain was grateful for this small miracle. Not everyone had died. There were enough survivors for a small camp. Sprawled around them was a tent city, with no more than about twenty in it. A small number, in all honesty, but it was better than nothing. He wasn’t sure how Jeralt had rounded them up, but it seemed the ex-captain was more skilled than he let on.

Plastering a broad smile on his face, Sylvain walked over to his closest friend. “Hey—”

“Don’t.” Unfortunately, the closest friend was Felix. Seated on a rock, he sharpened his sword tirelessly, not even looking up to acknowledge anyone’s presence.

“Come on, you don’t know what I’m about to say,” Sylvain replied lightly, though the words sounded forced even to his ears. Even his grin didn’t feel natural. “It could be anything.”

“Unless it’s about how we’re going to beat those bastards, I don’t care.” Felix looked up now, giving him a flat glare. His eyes were slightly red-rimmed and now that Sylvain was paying attention, his voice sounded hoarse as well.

“Felix…” Sylvain swallowed, reaching out to squeeze his friend’s shoulder. “I…I’m sorry. I know—”

Before he could say Rodriguez, before he could so much as touch him, Felix pulled away, his glare hardening. “Don’t,” he hissed, but it sounded more like a plea than an order.

Sylvain had never been close to his family and in all honesty, he never wanted to be. But Felix—he knew the relationship between him and his father was strained, was muddled and confused and with time, perhaps it could have been fixed.

It was time they never got. He had never thought of Felix as fragile before, but every part of the man before him looked like glass, ready to break. And Sylvain had always been a bull in a china shop. He stepped back for now, dropping the smile entirely. “Okay.”

There was something else he should say, but he couldn’t find the words. Looking around, it wasn’t hard to find the rest of his friends. Ingrid flitted from tent to tent, her hands full of supplies and expression determined. Sylvain watched her for a long moment, noticing her tear-stained cheeks and the tiny tremors of her hands as she forced a neutral expression.

Had his friends always been this fragile? This easily broken? He wanted to pull them both into a tight hug, force them to cry it out, but he knew he’d be the one crying. That as responsible as Ingrid was, she’d hold her feelings at bay while she dealt with him and Felix.

She looked at him, her green eyes watery, and Sylvain flinched. He knew her almost better than he knew himself, and he didn’t have to ask to know the question running through her mind, Could I have done more?Because Ingrid always blamed herself when things went wrong, always saw it as a failure on her part instead of others.

And if she asked, he wouldn’t know what to say. Before she could so much as step toward him, he spun on his heels and all but ran to the edge of the camp. Dedue’s hulking figure was easy to spot even from a distance.

His voice cracked slightly as he greeted, “Dedue.”

“Sylvain.” Dedue offered a half-smile, his expression weary.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked, coming to a stop next to him. Sylvain rubbed his arm, trying to force his heart to calm down, to keep his voice from cracking.

“As well as expected, thank you.” Even now, he kept a formal tongue, as though to force a wall between them. “And you?”

“Alive, I guess,” Sylvain half-joked, not sure how to answer that question at all. Really, this whole line of questioning was stupid, why had he even asked that. He rubbed his neck. “How’s Dimitri?”

Dedue sighed, gesturing at the field in the distance. Barely visible was a blue-clothed man in battle. Sylvain tensed, almost about to run after his prince, when he realized there was no enemy. Just a man, in a field, spearing countless invisible foes. Dimitri roared with each thrust, sounding like a wild, rabid animal instead of the gentle prince he’d known for years.

Just where had that rage been hiding, all this time?

“He has not stopped for the last two days,” Dedue answered his unasked question. “He barely rests, barely eats, and I fear for his health.”

“I…” Sylvain’s shoulders sank, and just who did he think he was going to cheer up? He barely knew how to react. “How do I help?”

“I’m not sure if anything can help him right now.” Dedue’s brow furrowed.

“Then what should I do?” His voice cracked.

A heavy hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked up at Dedue’s impassive face. His eyes crinkled kindly, his voice soft. “You live.”

“Live?”

Dedue nodded. “Yes, that is what Dimitri, what all of you have taught me. Even if my people are gone, I am here.”

Suddenly, Sylvain recognized Dedue’s expression for what it was: a man who had lived through this before, who was seeing nothing new. He’d almost forgotten that Duscur was amongst the first to be conquered by the Empire, its people all but wiped out. No wonder Dedue always looked older than he was.

“Living is harder than it looks.” Sylvain cracked a smile, and this time it didn’t feel faked.

v. Dimitri

Dimitri was used to ghosts. He’d had his since he had been a child, watching his parents die in a burst of flames and gunpowder. Their voices had never left him—his father screaming at his enemies, his mother begging to be saved. If anything, the ghosts had piled up over the years, the faceless citizens he could have saved, the people he should have protected.

He was used to his ghosts, and in retrospect, seeing his home wiped out shouldn’t have affected him as it had. What was the weight of millions more, their voices drowning out one another as they all asked him for the same thing: justice.

No, not justice. His blood boiled too hot, his skin itched too much for this to be as cool and neutral as justice. They wanted revenge.

He wanted revenge.

“What are you thinking of?” Gilbert asked, his voice so low and quiet that Dimitri almost mistook it for a phantom’s. The man’s presence was as invisible as one, anyways, and Dimitri wouldn’t have noticed him in Jeralt’s camp if he hadn’t called out. Even now, following him through the abandoned caverns near the capital, it was like following a wraith. It was easy to lose him in the gloom.

Dimitri looked at the older man, at the wrinkles lining his face. They’d known each other for years, but he hadn’t realized how old Gilbert was till now. “You should be with your family,” he replied automatically.

Gilbert’s eyes widened before he shook his head. His huge frame almost curled into itself, shame radiating off him. “I cannot.”

“You will not,” Dimitri corrected harshly, no longer willing to mince his words.

Gilbert’s breath hitched, and he nodded. “No, you are right. I will not.” His hand curled into a tight ball as they walked, his nails digging into his skin.

Perhaps it was a good thing that he had left the others behind, ordering them to keep watch at the cavern’s mouth. There were some conversations Dimitri wasn’t ready to have in front of them, some words he wasn’t ready to hear from them, and a trip through the dark was preferable than having to process the past week.

“Why?” Dimitri asked. The words came out louder, rougher than he’d intended.

“I do not deserve to see them,” Gilbert replied simply, as though that made sense. He gave a resigned smile. “Not after what I’ve done to them.”

And what was done to us?

What do we deserve?

“You can still say that, even now? After the capital was destroyed?” Dimitri asked, resisting to cover his ears. It never stopped the ghosts before, it wouldn’t stop them now. He wanted to get through this conversation without rage spilling out of him like lava from a volcano.

Gilbert frowned, his heavy brow furrowed. “That is a fair point.”

“Then—”

“However, we will have to discuss it when you return, your highness.” Gilbert came to an abrupt stop.

Dimitri looked ahead now, eyes widening as he took in a massive door. Elegant script covered it, a tribute in a dead language, and faintly he could recognize some of the magic ruins covering the stone slab. “This is…”

‘Your ancestral tomb.” Gilbert paused. “One of them, at least. Inside, you might find the help you seek.”

Perhaps there was something wrong about seeking the dead for help, but Dimitri had heard their voices for years. They had guided his hand, whether he liked it or not, and what was one more voice added to the collection.

With no hesitation, he touched the door. It groaned as it slid to the right into a crevasse, revealing a small, circular room with a domed roof. Inside, several statues lined the walls, and he recognized the biggest one as Loog, founder of his country and his first ancestor. In the center of the tomb, a long coffin stood alone.

His feet automatically moved toward it. Dimly, he was aware that Gilbert had stayed outside. Dimitri’s footsteps echoed softly in the room. It threw him off slightly and he stopped, looking around. There was no one here but him.

Dimitri froze. There was no one here but him. He had almost forgotten what it was like, utter silence. To be alone with his thoughts. Not even the ghosts were willing to enter this sacred area. Swallowing, he turned back to the coffin, his hands brushing the lid reverently.

What would the King of Lions have done in his place? Revenge? Justice? Or walked away from it all?

A flash of green crossed his sight, the memory of a slight smile, a soft touch. Byleth.

Peace.

As though to answer him, a sword materialized in the air, identical in form to the one decorating the coffin. Loog’s sword, he knew instinctively. The sword hovered in the air in front of him, waiting to be claimed.

His ancestors had spoken.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, banishing any thoughts of a green-haired woman as he reached for the hilt.

The path before him was one of vengeance. Love had no place there.

[juniperwindsong]

In Love & War (2/3)

Part 2: Retrouvaille

  You look down at the parchment in your hands, then back at the dilapidated building in front of you. The numbers match. This is the place. And a more unlikely setting for a casual conversation, you can’t imagine. You have to walk several flights of stairs to reach the top flat. You knock tentatively on the stripped-paint door, but it swings open at your touch. In spite of the sun shining behind you, the room within is shrouded in darkness.

  The thought of what Felix would say if he knew where you were and what you were about to do stops you before you enter. Felix, so all-consumed with your safety he thinks of almost nothing else. To walk into such an obvious trap after everything he’s done for you feels like a betrayal of the highest order. But the darkness ahead doesn’t frighten you nearly as much as the dark gaps in your memories. You're convinced now something is wrong, something is missing from your mind, and you cannot shake the feeling that Talbott Winger will be able to shed light on it.

  And if it turns out to be a trap, well, it's been a long time since you had a decent duel.

  You light your wand and push past the creaking door. It's a studio loft flat, the entirety of which could fit inside the Rosier mansion's second-best dining room. Your light arcs across the walls, scanning the dark for potential dangers. There's a worn but comfortable-looking sofa, soft curtains fluttering gently over the windows, and cheerily painted picture frames decorating the peeling walls. It might have been quite homey once, you think. Only now nearly everything is coated in a thick layer of dust and debris. A table near the kitchen alcove is piled high with used dishes and old fish-and-chip wrappers. You wrinkle your nose at the smell of stale food. There's a noticeable absence of animals or insect life, however, and you wonder whether the flat is entirely abandoned after all.

  Movement at the corner of your vision makes you jump. You look up, wand gripped tightly. A wavy pattern of light dances across the wall behind the table. A strange, flickering light, like the reflection of water. You step closer, searching for the source, when a picture hanging at an angle captures your attention.

  Even beneath the layers of dust, you recognise the yellow-gold eyes of Talbott Winger. A teenaged Talbott Winger, standing awkwardly at the edge of a group of young people wearing Hogwarts robes. As you stare, one of the other teenagers grabs Talbott's hand, dragging him closer. The students all smile and wave toward the camera, and Talbott's friend leans over to kiss his cheek. Several of the students cheer and Talbott's face turns a fiery red, but he smiles in spite of himself and doesn't pull away.

  You inspect Talbott's cheeky companion with interest. You squint at the face, trying to make it out beneath the dust and dirt. Something about them is painfully familiar. The figure turns to face the camera again, and shock like a thunderbolt roots you to the spot.

  “Y/N.”

  You whip around to find Talbott lurking near the door watching you. His wand is held at his side, but it doesn't occur to you to be afraid. Your head is reeling at the photograph's implications.

  “What is this?” You gesture at the picture.

  Talbott does not reply. He’s once again the self that seems most natural on him, brooding and silent.

  “Why am I in this photo? Why am I -“ You glance back at the picture to confirm what your mind is struggling to accept. You - a teenaged you, dressed in school robes - leaning in to kiss Talbott's cheek as you wave to the camera.

  “Were we.... together? At school?

  Talbott is still unwilling, or unable, to answer. He takes a few wooden steps toward you. You gather your wits enough to point your wand at his chest.

  "Stop!" you demand. You rake your free hand across your scalp, grappling for an explanation. "This is...some sort of trick, isn't it? You're trying to get information from me. About Felix.”

  Talbott only shakes his head. His eyes look almost as panicked as you feel.

  "Then why can't I remember you? Why can't I remember any of this? Why doesn't anything make sense?"

  "Your husband," Talbott pronounces the word with disgust, "is lying to you."

  Your heart skips a beat.

  "That's...quite an accusation." The tremor in your voice belies your arch words. A light has clicked on in your head, but you don't want to look at it.

  It makes sense. It's almost the only thing that makes sense. Felix's refusal to answer questions, to explain anything to you, to let you go anywhere... You've always known he was hiding something. You simply trusted him enough to let it go, at least for the time being. But lying? You picture your husband's adoring eyes and careful hands cupping your face. It's impossible to imagine Felix doing anything to hurt you.

  "Alright then. What is he lying about?"

  "Everything."

  Talbott takes a tentative step, eyes asking yours for permission. You hesitate. Then you lower your wand. You hold your breath as he walks, but Talbott stops on the other side of the table. He pushes aside greasy newspaper wrappings to reveal a stone basin underneath.

  "A Pensieve?"

  You've seen one just like it in Dumbledore's office. You wonder if it isn't the same one, it looks so similar. What is it doing here?

  "I don't know what he's done to you, but I think it's a powerful memory charm," says Talbott. He takes a small vial from his pocket and empties it into the Pensieve. "So you're not going to believe me if I tell you. But I think if I show you...you might remember."

  The contents of the basin begin to swirl. Talbott takes a step back and stares at you pointedly. You understand what he wants you to do. But it's madness to put yourself in such a vulnerable position with this man you cannot remember. You shouldn't even be considering it.

  You stare at the swirling basin. It’s filled to the brim with memories. And memories are everything you’ve been missing for so long. You approach the Pensieve, and, without letting yourself think anymore, plunge your face inside.

-

  Tendrils of liquid mist writhe about you as you sink in a swirl of light and colour. Fragments of memory play out quickly in front of your floating body: you see yourself, a ridiculously young you, watching in awe as a gawky yellow-eyed boy becomes a bird in the middle of the Hogwarts courtyard; then a version of yourself only slightly older peers anxiously through a gap in a bookcase, hands fiddling with your hair, until the young Talbott on the other side whispers, "My answer is yes," and you watch your own face light up in unrestrained joy.        

  Another swirl of mist turns the room into starlit sky, and the teenage you and Talbott are perched on the edge of the courtyard fountain. Talbott's hand inches across the stone toward yours. You meet him halfway, grinning furtively, your fingers just brushing his before Talbott grips them tightly, as though you might run away at any second. Then the courtyard morphs into a greenhouse, stars still winking overhead, and you're holding hands with Talbott across a table. The teenage you holds her breath, and you can feel your own present-day chest suddenly still, as Talbott leans over and places tentative lips on your cheek.

  You reach up to touch your own, older cheek as if the imprint might still be there. Then your fingers brush your lips. There's a burning there, as well, and you suddenly know where the next memory will be just before the swirling mist subsides.

  The owlrey, at sunset. You and Talbott sit cross-legged on the straw, books spread out between you. You're supposed to be studying, you remember, but you can't keep your eyes off the boy next to you. He's staring at his book with all the appearance of unflappable focus. Then he darts a glance at you from the corner of his eye. The younger you smiles. In a rush of boldness you can feel as well as see, the younger you presses your lips to Talbott's in the whisper of a kiss.

  Echos of exhilaration, and a sudden horrible fear that you've gone too far, rush through your veins as if the moment were happening to you again. Then Talbott reaches for your teenage self, yanking you closer, his mouth open in a desperate, un-practiced, entirely un-self-conscious kiss. Your first kiss.

  You remember it now. You close your eyes, but the scene continues to play behind your eyelids. Your awkward teenage fumbling with lips and teeth and tongue, interspersed with giggles and later with breathy sighs. That kiss had meant everything to you. It had lulled you to sleep at night for so many years. It was the memory that inspired your patronus. How could you have forgotten it?

  You open your eyes again. Images continue to flash in quick succession and your dizzy brain tries desperately to keep up. There's you and Talbott in the library passing notes to each other between the bookcases; laying out on the grass with Talbott, your fingers intertwined, watching the stars and sharing secrets; stolen moments with Talbott in the owlrey, discovering each other's bodies slowly and sweetly; Talbott cradling you against him at Rowan's funeral, ignoring the whispers and raised eyebrows of the students around you; Talbott's burning face and pleased smile as you kiss his cheek for your graduation photograph.  

  Each moment ignites a flame of recognition inside you. You try to remember everything all at once, itemize every moment you've somehow forgotten. But your head feels like it's breaking under the barrage of memories.

  Then the mists converge and settle into a scene more still and focused than the others. A slightly older Talbott stands stiffly in the middle of an empty studio flat. You recognise it as the flat you've left your body in. Only it's less dusty and dirty, and there's sunlight streaming through open, curtain-less windows.

  You look around for your younger self, but Talbott is alone. These must be Talbott's memories then, not yours. He's rubbing the back of his neck so hard he might wear the skin away, and shooting panicked looks around the empty room. His yellow-gold eyes dart to a window. You can tell he's fighting the urge to take flight. Then the door to the flat swings open noisily. It slams against the wall and a rain of plaster sprinkles to the floor.

  "Whoops!" you hear your own voice say. A you, slightly older than the graduation photo and with different hair, staggers into the flat. There’s a tower of boxes balanced in your arms. "Guess we'll need to fix that."

  You flash a grin at Talbott, but it fades when you catch sight of his expression.

  "What's wrong?"

  Talbott says nothing. He figdets with the pocket of his trousers and doesn't meet your eye.

  Carefully, you tip your boxes to the floor. You take slow, deliberate steps toward Talbott, as if approaching an extra skittish bowtruckle.

  "You don't...I mean...you've not changed your mind, have you?"

  If anything, Talbott looks more anxious than before. He shakes his head so violently hair swings about his face. He stares at you, mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a baby bird. Your younger self considers this for a moment. Then you take a deep breath and say, "Okay. Hold on."

  Pointing your wand at the boxes, your younger self murmurs, "Windgardium Leviosa,” levitating them carefully to the middle of the room. The boxes settle into even columns until they form a wall about waist height. You dig through the top box and come up with parchment and quill. Then you slide down one side of the cardboard wall. Your hand sneaks around to pat the space on the other side.

  The present-day you smiles as you watch Talbott take the proffered seat. You know what this is. It’s the ritual the two of you invented at school, whenever Talbott's anxiety robbed him of speech. What others often mistook for haughty silence, you discovered was really Talbott trapped in his own head, too overwhelmed to explain his thoughts aloud. So you wrote him notes. You left them in the owlery, or his schoolbooks, or slid them between bookshelves in the library to where he waited on the other side. You let him write, at his own pace, everything that was on his mind, until the panic subsided and he could speak again.

  As you watch, your younger self scribbles a single word on the parchment, then slides it back to Talbott. You don't have to look to remember what it says.

  Hey

  Hey yourself, Talbott writes, sliding the parchment back.

  You don't seem excited about moving day. Is it the flat? I know it's rubbish, but I can fix a good bit of that.

   Talbott grimaces before writing in his careful hand: I don't mind about the flat. It's ours. It's perfect.

  So why the long face?

  This time, it takes Talbott minutes before he's able to pen the words, I'm afraid, and push the parchment toward you.

  Of what?

   Talbott's hand-writing is now a hasty scrawl. What if some dark wizard I'm tracking comes looking for me and finds you instead? What if I'm not here to help you?

   Your younger self grins. Talbott, I outduel you every time. I'm more worried about you going to work without me.

   The corner of Talbott's lips twitch before his face clouds again. What if you change your mind later?

   I won't.

   The next words come slow and shaky. Talbott presses the quill so hard to the parchment ink bleeds through.When he's finished, Talbott tosses the parchment aside. You have to stretch your arm around the boxes to reach it.

  I don't want to lose you.

  And you remember without having to look the little pinpricks of tears in yours eyes as you read this. You set the parchment down and crawl around the boxes to Talbott's side. You settle yourself across Talbott's lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your forehead to his.

  "You aren't going to lose me. I promise."

  Then Talbott's hands are everywhere at once: roaming through your hair, down your arms, across every bit of your body he can reach. His mouth takes yours like a drowning man fighting for air. Even now, so many years later, you can feel your heart stop with the force of that kiss. There's nothing gentle or careful about his clutching fingers or his hungry lips. It's a primal, animal sort of need that makes you gasp and tremble and wrap your legs around him.

  Talbott pulls you harder against him, as close as you can possibly be, but it isn't close enough. It never is. Not after you've removed every layer of clothing separating you, nor when he pins you to the ground, your frantic movements testing the integrity of the floorboards. You always need more of him. It's why you can make a promise like that with such certainty. 

  What on earth could have induced you to break it? What could possibly have made you forget this moment?

  The memory melts into mist again, and when it reforms you see a different face smiling at a version of you not much younger than you are now. A face with rich brown eyes, and a superior smirk you know by heart.

  "Rosier, this is a surprise!"

  Your exclamation echoes into Flourish and Blotts where Talbott, examining a book, looks up sharply.

  "Indeed. It's been a long time, Y/N. It's a pleasure to see you again."

  Felix takes your hand and offers it a kiss, accented by a mock bow. He winks, and you laugh at the little display.

  The scene shifts again, and now you're watching yourself and Felix chat across a table at an outdoor cafe. Only you’re watching from the rooftop of a building a block away. You wonder why, until you spot a great eagle next to you, piercing yellow-gold eyes fixed on the you down below. You squint in the same direction, wondering if you can get closer. Except, as you take in the cafe's coloured awning, you realise you know this memory already. You've thought of it before: catching up with Felix for the first time after you graduated.

  You can see Felix's lips move, but the words are muffled. Talbott must have been too far away to hear anything clearly. Felix reaches across the table to stroke the back of your hand. You remember the way the casual flirtation made you shiver. He says something Talbott can't hear, but you remember the words exactly.

  "Perhaps I could take you to dinner sometime. I'd love to hear more. I've...quite missed you, Y/N."

  And your own reply as you pull your hand gently away. "That...sounds lovely, Rosier. Felix. But I'm afraid I am seeing someone already."

  You offer an apologetic smile which Felix accepts with grace.

  "Of course. Maybe, as friends then? If you're comfortable?"

  But Talbott can't hear this exchange. He can only see your eager nod and the brief embrace you and Felix share before parting.

  "We were just friends," you whisper to the eagle, but of course, he can't hear that either. He takes off from the building in rapid flight, wings beating the air violently. And the memory congeals into mist once more.

-

  Scenes continue to play before your eyes. You watch time pass in snatches of moments, but you take in very little of what's happening. Because something has clicked in your brain, and your mind is finally supplying forgotten memories of its own. Talbott, wandering the flat you share, taciturn and brooding. Nothing you do or say can cheer him. Your questions go unanswered, your notes ignored. You remember your growing frustration and concern with your distant partner. His change toward you hurt. You can still feel the ache, like a bruise against your chest. It was as if all the years you had spent carefully building trust with him had never happened. You couldn't understand it.

  But with Talbott's memories to fill in the gaps, everything makes sense.

  You never mentioned your lunch with Felix to Talbott, nor any of the meetings that followed. You knew Felix's Death Eater family would have made any friendship between him and Talbott impossible. So you kept it hidden. You thought. Guilt sours your stomach until you're afraid you might be sick. What must Talbott have thought of you?

  The sound of your own voice raised in frustration snaps you back to the scene in front of you.

  "You have to talk to me!" you cry, fingers fisting in your own hair. "I have been so patient, Talbott, but I can't drag words from you all the time. You have to help me! You have to tell me what's going on in your head. If you don't love me anymore, then just say so! Anything is better than this."

  "Of course, I love you," Talbott mumbles. He's edging toward the window, retreating from the fight. Usually, this would make you stop and think through your actions carefully. The last thing you ever want to do is scare Talbott away. But this time, angry agitation courses through you. You can still feel the echo of it bubbling in your veins, keeping your better judgment at bay.

  "Then why? Why would it be so awful to be married? We've lived together for years, I don't understand why it's so different."

  Talbott's yellow-gold eyes plead with you to hear what he cannot say. You understand now the fears he could not put into words. But your younger self only waits impatiently, arms crossed, while Talbott shakes his head.

  "We just...can't."

  The memory shifts again, and you're watching yourself from a great height. Rain pelts from the sky in angry bullets. They seem to pass right through your strangely floating body, but they run heavily off the wings of the eagle next to you: Talbott, gliding soundlessly above your younger self, as you sprint across the Rosier estate to the manor house. You rap hard on the front door. It takes only a moment for it to open and a surprised looking Felix to allow you to dart inside.

  Talbott circles the manor several times, you floating along beside him, before he catches sight of light and movement in a ground floor window. He dives, and you dive with him. You know you can't actually be hurt in someone else's memory, but still you squeeze your eyes shut as the ground hurtles toward you. You don't reopen them until you hear the scrabbling of talons against ground. Talbott settles himself in the shadows beside a window looking down onto the butcher’s table in the kitchen you know so well. The two of you watch as Felix pours you a cup of tea, and your younger self pours out your heart.

  This time you can hear words between your sobs: almost incoherent confessions of how worried you are about your partner and how confused you feel about your relationship.  Which means Talbott must be able to hear them too. He must also hear Felix when he finally speaks into the silence that lingers in the wake of your rambling.

  “Y/N, do you think...if you hadn’t met him, hadn’t dated him at school...would you have considered...me when I asked you? As something more than a friend?"

  Your younger face scrunches up in confusion. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I confess, I did fancy you a bit in my first year. Or, did you know that already? I wasn't much good at hiding it."

  Felix's face turns bright red.

  "I did not," he replies carefully. He tries to hide his blush behind his tea cup, but you see it and giggle around wet hiccoughs.

  “There’s a face I don’t see often.”

   Felix grins sheepishly. "Then, I suppose I ought to confess that I...I quite fancied you as well."

  Your younger self nearly chokes on a sip of tea. "What, when I was 11?"

  "No, I mean...for the last few years. Now, in fact."

  You stop laughing, and Felix continues hastily.

  "I know this might not be the best time to say it, but...it seems like there never is a best time. I've waited for years. I didn't want to - I mean - I wanted to wait until you weren't with him anymore, but Merlin knows when that will be. It doesn’t seem like anything he does will induce you to leave him. But he doesn't appreciate you, surely you can see that now? How could any man be so cold to you? Make you worry like this? Make you wait?"

  "So...this whole time..." your younger self says in growing agitation, rising from the chair. "We weren't really friends? You were just...waiting for me to break up?"

  "Of course not. I mean, of course we were friends. Are friends," Felix says, standing quickly. "I - I misspoke. I just thought...maybe it would help you to know...you have other options." He runs a hand through his hair. "This was the wrong time.”

  "Yes, it was."

  "I apologise," says Felix quietly. He looks so unhappy you wonder how your younger self can stand to be so cold to him. It's hard to remember a time when Felix, carefree and smiling, wasn't at the forefront of your desires. But, as you watch your younger self flee the house, you know that in spite of everything Felix had to offer, you had only ever been in love with one person.

  "Talbott!"

  The memory blurs into another, and your younger self is startled to see Talbott waiting for you in the street outside your flat. It's still pouring, and both of you are soaked to the skin. But Talbott is babbling, something you've never seen him do, and you're too shocked to suggest adjourning somewhere dry.

  'I'm sorry," he says, taking your hands and clenching them between his own. "I'm so sorry. I know I'm - I can't say the things I mean. Even when I need to, when it's most important. But I do mean them. I mean... I love you."

  "I love you, too," you're quick to assure him.

  Talbott shakes his head, water flicking from the ends of his sopping hair. "I've never understood that. It didn't seem real, and... I think I've just been waiting all these years to lose you somehow. But I don't want to lose you. And I certainly don't want to be the reason why I lose you."

  Your jaw goes slack. You know you ought to say something in response, but shock has frozen your tongue. This might be the most emotion Talbott has ever confessed at one time. He takes your stunned face in his hands. "What I’m saying is... I mean, I'm asking if you'll marry me."

 A little bubble of joy grows in your chest. A bubble you force yourself to pop.

  "Talbott, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just...I love you, so much. And the way you've been recently... I know you're hurting and I don't know why or how to help and it hurts me too, but... you're never going to lose me. We don't have to be married for that to be true. I'm yours, I'm always yours. I promise."

  Talbott presses his mouth to yours in a crushing, breathless kiss. His lips know a language that communicates feeling better than his words ever can. You inhale his need for you and return it in kind. The rain dripping into your nose forces you to part for air.

  "Please marry me," he whispers into your hair. "I want to. I want you. I want...us."

  You can feel the joyous bubble expand within you, pushing everything else aside. Until there's no room for confusion or sadness or fear.

  "Do you really mean that?"

   Talbott can only nod, his words exhausted. But you see the answer in the spark of his yellow-gold eyes.

  "Then, yes!" You cling to Talbott as though the rain might sweep him away. "Yes!"

  Tears leak from your younger eyes, lost in the rivers of rain. It's a moment before you realise your older self is crying as well. You sob quietly into your hand, even as the mists swirl about once more, carrying away one of the most meaningful moments of your life. Lost, for so long. Like you promised Talbott you would never be.

  How? the word pounds against your aching brain. How? How?

-

  The rain fades into mist and the mist reforms into the inside of your flat. In spite of the light shining through the parted curtains, the room is oddly shadowed. There’ s something different about it. Something is missing you can’t quite put your finger on.

  You hear a choking noise and turn to see Talbott, sitting at the table. There's a piece of parchment in his hand. His yellow-gold eyes are liquid, and as you watch, a tear rolls down his sharp nose. He makes another strangled choking sound, and you realise he's crying. Your memories may still be settling, but you're certain you've never seen Talbott cry before. The sight wrenches your heart from your chest. You want to throw your arms around him, even though you know he can't feel it.

 Instead, you stare at the parchment in his hand. It begins, Dear Talbott, and it ends in your signature. The writing looks like yours, if a bit tidier than you usually bother with. You scan the contents of the letter, eyes widening with each line. You're leaving? You've changed your mind? You're marrying Felix Rosier, instead? You can't recall ever even thinking these things, let alone writing them down. A phrase jumps out at you from the parchment: You've never appreciated me, I see that now. The words are horribly familiar...and you blanch as you remember where you heard them.

   The memory starts to dissolve. You glance around desperately. You want to re-read the letter again. You want to be absolutely sure before you allow the shadow in your mind to take full form. But the flat becomes the entryway to the enormous manor house you know so well. Beside you, Talbott steels himself with a breath, then pulls the bell.

   The door opens, and Felix's wand appears first. He holds it just low enough to keep the minimum requirement for civility, but the threat is unmistakable.

   "What do you want?" he asks Talbott coolly.

   "I want to see Y/N."

   Felix's eyes flick briefly over his shoulder as if checking for something. He replies in a lower voice:

   "She has no wish to see you."

   "I don't believe you."

   "Believe what you like."

   Felix attempts to close the door, but Talbott throws his shoulder against it. He squares up to Felix as if he might simply push past him. Neither man is particularly brawny, but Talbott has the height advantage. Their scuffle is quickly solved when Felix pokes his wand directly into Talbott's chest forcing him to step back.

   "You did something to her, didn't you?" Talbott says, yellow-gold eyes bright with fury. "You wrote that letter. You...you kidnapped her."

   A brief, hard swallow is the only indication of guilt Felix betrays.

   "It hardly matters. It's over between you either way. Y/N is safe now, that's what's important. There's nothing you can do."

   "You don't care about her safety!" Talbott's voice is almost a shout.

   'Don't you dare!" Felix suddenly snarls, shocking both men into a short silence. Felix composes his face and continues more quietly, "Her safety is all I care about. And if it had mattered more to you, perhaps things would have been different."

  The glint of concentration in Talbott's eyes is a look you've seen before. You know he's thinking quickly, debating his next move.

   "You won't get away this," he finally says, his voice a soft and venomous hiss. "I won't let you."

   "Is that a threat?"

   "It's a promise."

    Without another word, Felix pushes the heavy front door closed. Just before it slams shut, you see a figure dart down the corridor behind him. You recognise your own wide eyes make contact with Talbott's in surprise. Then the mists swirl about you again. This time, they envelope your body like a whirlpool lifting you up, up, up...    

  Until you’re stumbling out of the Pensieve, reeling and gasping for air. You lean over the table, gripping the edge until your knuckles turn white. You take deep, slow breaths, your eyes closed. Your mind is whirling, frantically sorting through everything you've seen, everything you now remember. 

  Felix, you realise, and your insides twist sharply. Felix had done something to you. What? Your battered brain supplies a forgotten image of Felix's wand pointed at you, his eyes full of fear and pleading. His mouth moves frantically, but the memory still lacks sound.

  Your own name being called tears you from your vision. You turn carefully, leaning against the table for support. The sudden recovery of everything your mind was missing is wreaking havoc with your body. Your knees wobble. You feel dizzy and seasick. And the sight that meets your eyes does nothing to settle your symptoms.

  "Y/N!"

  Felix says your name again, but he isn't looking at you. His eyes are on the wand Talbott aims at his chest. There are notes of concern in Felix's voice, but his wand arm, pointed at Talbott, is entirely steady. The two men watch each other, tensed for action. Both shoot quick glances your way, but neither can do more without dropping their defence.

  "Are you alright?" Felix calls over his shoulder.

  You blink, but don't answer. Your mind throbs so badly your vision blurs, but for once you know you can trust it.

  "You lied to me." Your voice comes out a croak. You briefly wonder how long you've been in the Pensieve.

  "What?" Felix sounds panicked.

  "You did this to me," you say slowly, the words leaving a terrible taste in your mouth. You don't want them to be true. But the sound has caught up to the picture in your head of Felix's wand pointed at you. You can hear his spell clearly. "You...obliviated me. You made me forget. How...how could you do that?"

  Felix tries to step closer, but Talbott sends a hex at the floorboard near his feet. With a snarl, Felix throws a curse back at Talbott. Talbott ducks and weaves to the side just in time. The spell hits the sofa, sending it flying against the wall with a crash. Both men straighten, and raise their wands at each other once more.

  "Stop it!" you yell as loudly as your pounding head will allow. You hold your own wand out, but your arm shakes too much to be menacing. You fight a wave of nausea threatening to capsize your stomach. Both Talbott and Felix turn to you in concern. Felix is nearest. He shuffles backward toward you, still keeping his wand on Talbott.

  "Take another step and I swear I will kill you."

  You glance up at Talbott. You know from the set of his jaw and the glint of purpose in his yellow-gold eyes, he means exactly what he says.

  "No." Both Talbott and Felix drop their wands a fraction, looking at you in varying degrees of surprise. "I want him to explain." You keep your face as expressionless as possible as you fix your eyes on Felix. "I want to know why you did this."

   For once, Felix doesn't blush. Instead, colour drains from his face until its almost translucent. And when he speaks, his voice is as unsteady as your legs.

  " Y/N, I swear, I didn't want to do it. But I had to! You wouldn't see reason. The Dark Lord, he - he considered you a threat. Ismelda Murk, she told him everything about you - everything you did at school. He wanted you dead, or on his side. I told you to leave...to run...to stay safe. But you wouldn't. You - he -" he spits the word in Talbott’s direction, "insisted you stay and fight.

  "And for good reason," you say hotly. "The Dark Lord has to be stopped. He's evil."

  "That doesn't matter!" Felix shouts. "This isn't about good and evil, it's about alive and dead. All I wanted was to keep you alive. You wouldn't listen to me, and I didn't know what else to do. I just wanted to keep you safe."

 Felix's eyes are anguished, but you feel no compulsion to comfort him. Ice creeps through your veins, freezing your heart, shattering your sympathy.

  "No you didn't." Your voice cracks with brittle fury. "You didn't care about keeping me safe. If you did, you would have just wiped my memory and sent me to France or America or somewhere he wouldn't find me. You didn't do this for me. You did this for you." Your voice rises in volume until you're almost shouting. "I chose Talbott. You wanted me, and I picked Talbott and you couldn't stand it."

  "Because it's foolishness!" Felix bellows. A shower of red sparks erupt from his wand. "He's a frightened little bird, he can't keep you safe! He flies away at the first sign of a fight. I took you from him, and he didn't even attempt to come and find you. The way I would have. The way I always-"

  Talbott's curse is completely silent. Purple light hits Felix in the chest and he falls heavily to the floor. He lays still, eyes closed, and you gasp in spite of yourself.

  Talbott sprints the length of the flat in a second. He throws your arm about his shoulder, and half-drags you past the unmoving Felix.

  Your stomach heaves as you ask, "Is he-"

  "He's not dead," Talbott says viciously. "He's not worth anyone's soul."

  You can't reply. Each step you take increases your risk of being sick all over Talbott, so you focus on your feet. Picking up one after the other. As you stumble out the door, you cannot help but look back. The sight of Felix crumpled on the floor sends a crack through your heart's icy veneer.

  You want to tell Talbott to stop. You want to come up with a plan; something that will fix everything, the way you always do. But your mind is too exhausted to think anymore. You close your eyes and let Talbott wrap his arms around you, hoisting you down the stairs. When he reaches the bottom, he clutches you against him and disapparates.

-

  You sleep. You don't know for how long. You're looking for someone, someone calling your name. A voice you know... a voice you trust. A face swims into focus and you smile as you recognise it. Then it points a wand at your chest, and the spell echoes over and over in your mind. Obliviate. Swirling mist wraps itself around your body, trapping your arms and legs, constricting your chest, your throat. You're sure your head is about to explode.

   You jerk into consciousness, breathless and sweating. You fumble for Felix to wrap yourself in his arms, but the bed next to you is empty. And entirely too narrow to be yours.

   Then you remember. You're in the house of an escaped convict who, it was explained to you, had been falsely convicted after being framed for murder by his purported victim, both of whom were also unregistered animagi. And somehow, that's only the second strangest revelation you're wrestling with.

   Your wrap the blanket around you and take stock of yourself. Your head still hurts miserably. Most of your body aches as well. But your mind is the strongest it's been in a long time. Sleep has cleared away the last vestiges of fog.  You know exactly who you are and what has happened to you. It's a cruel irony then how much you wish the last 24 hours were just an awful dream.

    There's a knock at the door. You have no desire to talk to anyone at the moment. You open your mouth to say so when a voice calls, "Y/N, are you up?"

   The tension in your shoulders eases a fraction as you recognise who it is.

   "Yes. Come in."

   The door creaks open slowly and Bill Weasley sidles inside carrying a tray.

   "Mum wanted to make sure you ate something. She didn't get to feed you last night, and you know how she is. Thinks you might starve to death overnight."

   The sound of Bill's nervous prattle is immensely comforting. Bill, the big brother you wish you'd had. Bill, whose advice you value above anyone else's. For him, you're able to manage a weak smile.

   "I don't know if I can stomach anything just at present. But I might take a cup of tea if you have it."

   Grinning in relief, Bill sets the tray down on the bed beside you. You take the steaming cup and hold it against your chest.

   "So, how are you feeling this morning?"

   "I'm..." You want to say fine, but your mouth can't even form the words. You simply stop talking and squeeze your eyes shut again.

   "Yeah, that's sort of what I figured."

    A few minutes gentle silence rests between you. You sip your tea, hoping the warm liquid will settle the roiling in your stomach. Deep down, you know it's futile. It isn't really your stomach that's sick, it's your heart. But you don't know how to deal with that problem just yet, so you focus on Bill instead.

   "What are you doing here? Why aren't you in Egypt?”

   "Oh, I took a desk job to help out the Order. You knew that, didn't you?"

   You shake your head. Bill flushes, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Oh. I guess it might have been after you..um..."

   It's Bill's turn to trail away.

  "I imagine I've missed quite a bit," you say as casually as you can, raising the cup to your lips again.

   "Yeah, but...there'll be time to catch up on all that later. Mum isn't going to let anyone bother you till you’re well again. She's been terribly worried about you, you know. I mean, everyone has, but...when Talbott said you'd run off with that Death Eater, I thought Mum was going to march right up to the house herself and drag you out by your ear."

   Bill chuckles, but you can't join him.

   "How could anyone think I'd really done that? Joined You-Know-Who?"

   Bill's face falls. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "No one liked it much. It didn't make any sense. But the way Talbott explained it you'd left some letter saying you...you loved him. And love can make people do pretty mad things."

   You can't say anything to that.

   "Do you...want to talk about it?"

   You shake your head.

   "Alright. I'll leave you alone, then."

   Bill pushes off from the bed. He sets the tray of uneaten food on the bedside table, and starts for the door. His hand is just turning the knob when you call him back.

   "Bill?"

   Bill doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. He scoots onto the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You lay your head against his chest, and sob.

-

   For days, you keep yourself locked in the dusty bedroom of Grimmauld Place. Food is brought to you, occasionally by Mrs Weasley or Bill, but you pretend to be asleep whenever they arrive. You wait until after they've left to choke down what food you can stomach. You know you need to eat, but hunger and thirst have both abandoned you.

  Occasionally, you hear the sounds of gentle knocking or whispered conversations outside your door. You recognise the voices of your friends, wanting to see you, and Mrs Weasley shooing them away. You're glad for it. You aren't ready to speak to anybody. 

   Your ailment isn't a mystery to you. You know you're heartbroken, you just don't want to think about why. What does it say about you that you wake each morning craving the presence of the man who tricked you, lied to you, erased your memories? You can barely stomach the knowledge yourself. You don't want to think about what anyone else would say if they knew.

   Instead, you sleep as much as possible, and wait for the pain to subside.

    You're lying in bed one afternoon, letting the little sun the window permits warm your bones, when you're startled by the sound of shoes outside your door. You close your eyes, hoping whoever it is will see you sleeping and go away. But the door doesn't open. A scraping, scuffing noise reaches your ear. It stops, and the hall is quiet once more.

   You wait for a count of ten, then roll over in bed and open your eye just a crack. Something is laying on the floor. Curious, you sit up. It’s a piece of parchment and a quill, stuffed under the crack in the door. You leave the shelter of the bed and tiptoe across the room. You pick up the parchment and read the word, Hey. 

   For the first time in days, you smile. Turning, you slide down the door and settle onto the ground. You listen to the breathing on the other side, and close your eyes. 

   This is what it felt like to be you, before Felix. When the only place you could ever imagine yourself, the only place you wanted to be, was with Talbott. The mysterious, awkward boy who tugged at your heart strings. The man that settled your soul and set fire to your body. To be back-to-back with Talbott again is the comfort you desperately needed. It's returning to your own bed at the end of a long, tiring day.

   You turn to the parchment on your knees.

   Hey yourself, you write and stuff the parchment and quill back under the door.

   You can hear the faint scratch of the quill, then the parchment returns.

   How are you feeling?

   You mark out several answers before deciding on, I don't know.

   That makes sense. Talbott leaves a few lines of space before, I've missed you.

   You smile sadly. I missed you too.

    Really? His reply is an eager scrawl.

    Really. Even when I didn't know what I was missing, I knew I was missing something. And after I saw you in Diagon Alley, I knew deep down it was you. Even if I didn't know why. Somehow, this doesn’t seem like enough, so you add, I’m sorry. 

   It's not your fault, Talbott sends back. His handwriting is even. No ink blots or shaky pen strokes, nothing to suggest the statement is hard for him to admit.

   I know, but I'm still sorry.

   This time, Talbott's reply takes longer to reach you. So am I. I should have figured it out sooner. I should have known you wouldn't have left like that. I should have come after you.

   You hesitate. But the whole point of the ritual is to communicate the things you need the other to know, but are too hard to say out loud. So you let yourself write, Why didn't you?

   You can hear by the quill, stopping and starting again several times, how hard it is for Talbott to admit.

   I did once. When you first got back from France. I did a fly-by of the house. But you were with him. You looked happy. 

   You stare at the words. You wonder what moment Talbott had caught you in. You and Felix reading in the study, glancing at each other over the tops of your books? Together at the piano, where you took every opportunity to brush your fingers against his? Dancing in the ballroom? Laughing in the kitchen? Or wrapped around each other in one of a million places all over the house? It makes your face burn to think of Talbott seeing you like that.

   "Were you?" 

   You start at the sound of Talbott's voice as he whispers the words from around the closed door.

   "Was I what?" you ask quickly.

   "Were you happy?"

    You release a long, deep sigh.  "I...I don't know. I thought I was happy, but... I wasn't myself."

   "Did you really...love him?" The word twists Talbott’s voice. You know how hard it must be for him to say.

   "We were just friends, Talbott. I know I should have told you a long time ago, I just-"

   "No," he interrupts, "I mean - when you...forgot me. Did you love him then?"

   You don't know what to say. "He...he was very kind to me." It isn't really an answer to Talbott's question. But it’s all the confirmation he needs.

   "Do you love him now?"

  The answer sits on your tongue, heavy and uncomfortable. You want to spit it out, to confess. That’s what the ritual is for. But you can’t force it from your mouth. You sit frozen, unable to speak. You wonder if this is what it’s like to be Talbott.

   “Even after you know what he did to you?” Talbott says, unable to keep bitterness out of his voice. “Even though he's a Death Eater?” 

   "He's not just a Death Eater," you snap. You only realise how defensive this is until it’s too late. There’s no sound from the other side of the door. Talbott’s breathing seems to have stopped. "I mean, he doesn't want to be a Death Eater. He's just...frightened."

     Talbott doesn’t answer. You hear shoes slide against the floor. Then footsteps echo down the hall. You strain your ear until the only sound left is your own thudding heart beat.  You have to close your eyes again to keep the tears from spilling.

   You've spent days so lost in your longing for Felix, you forgot how badly you miss Talbott as well. 

-

Part 3 | Masterpost

[freddy-hughes]

Mother Knows Best~

“I told you those Reid’s were no good, Freddy. See, I just told you! But did you listen to your dear mother? No, of course you didn’t! I could have told you this was going to happen.” 

“Mom...please…” 

“What did you expect Freddy? Honestly! I should have known that little strumpet would go and do this to you. Leading you on this wild goose chase, leaving you alone in the forest, only to jump into bed with the first Mainlander to look her way? Hah! I told you, Freddy. I told you.” 

“Mom...please...stop.” 

It had only been a few meager weeks since Freddy woke from his trials and tribulations, and despite his every intention to not see his mother for prolonged periods of time, circumstances just were not within his favor. He didn’t have a home to go to. He had nowhere to be. His body was not in any condition to try, and survive in the forest. He had no coin for a room at the inn. As such, his mother had insisted he stay with her until he was healthy. 

“Stop what? Telling you the truth? You loved that little Jezebel with all your heart. Worked your fingers to the bone living in that hovel she called a home, and how does she repay you? By abandoning you to the Gods know what! You call that love? Hah! I’ve seen cows love better than that.” 

Freddy’s mother, Bridgette, was standing at the sink, cleaning the dishes from the meal they had just finished. Freddy himself sat at the table, watching her, fingers flexing as he felt frustration, annoyance, and anger bubble into his chest. “It’s not like that, mom.” He managed, but his voice sounded much more defeated than he intended. “I abandoned her.” 

“How could you say that, Freddy-Bear? You could never abandon anyone. No you were -taken- against your will. You had no choice in that. She, on the other hand, had every choice in her matter. Not even a year passes, and she’s already throwing her skirts up for another. Hah! I knew they were no good for you, Freddy-Bear. I just knew it!” 

“I told you, mom. It isn’t like that. You cannot blame her. I was gone for three years.” A beat to let it sing in. “Three years, mom. Nothing can survive that much time.” Freddy tried his best to keep his voice civil, but anger was rising up his throat like bile the more vitriol his mother spit about Lydia, and her family. “So stop it. Please.” 

Bridgette didn’t even bother to turn around, and face her son. She just kept dutifully washing dishes. “It isn’t my fault, Freddy, that she threw you out on your ear in your time of need. Look at you! You’re skin and bones, and did she even have the decency to see you? Give you your things? No. I had to go get them, and they were left in a pile outside her house! That isn’t love, Freddy. That is someone who didn’t care about you in the slightest.” 

“I know that isn’t true mom.” Freddy said hotly, fingers shaking against the table. 

“Oh? Then how do I have that atrocious cup she made you?” Bridgette retorted easily. 

Freddy looked at the ceramic mug in his hands. Lydia had made it for him after his growth spurt, as all their regular mugs looked comically small in his large hands. While it had a few defects, and sat off kilter, she had made it with. It was her first attempt at pottery, and Freddy had cherished it dearly. Engraved on the bottom was a small bee, and an even smaller heart. Freddy held the cup in his palms, looking down at it with a bittersweet smile.  “In the end, I was the one who didn’t see her. I called you before I even let Grams -- “ 

“Do not call her that in my house. Dierdre is not your grandmother.” 

“She was more a grandmother to me than your mother ever was! Do not speak about her that way to me.” 

Bridgette stopped washing the plate in her hands. Slowly, she set it down in the soapy water of the sink, and then grabbed a towel to dry her hands with. She turned around to level her son in a look Freddy knew all too well: disappointed anger. He cowed beneath the weight of it, ducking his head low, and avoided her gaze. 

“They abandoned you Freddy. That is the truth. For nearly ten years you loved Lydia, moved in with her, promised to marry her, and how does she repay you? Hmm? Does she wait for you, like the devoted woman she claimed to be? Or did she leave you for the first piece of meat to look her up and down?” 

“I said stop.” Freddy whispered, hot tears stinging his eyes as the flames on his tongue lapped at the backs of his teeth. “Do not talk that way about her to me.” 

“I will talk about whoever I wish, however I wish in my own home, and I will take no lip from my own son in the process.” 

Bridgette’s voice was stern, harsh, but her eyes were the most stinging. She looked at her own son with a mixture of pity, disappointment, anger, and surprise. Deep in Freddy’s heart, he knew his mother wished he felt the same way she did, and was upset he didn’t. She just couldn’t understand that none of this was anyone’s fault but his own. In her eyes, her son was perfect, it was the periphery that damaged him. She had never liked the Reid’s, but couldn’t bring it into herself to sequester Freddy away from them, especially when as children, Lydia used to sneak him out of his bedroom window to play.

“I will talk no more of this,” Freddy insists, trying to get away from the subject at hand. However, he knew his mother, and knew she would not let this go so simply. She finally had her reason to truly hate the Reid’s, and she would hold onto that with an ironclad grip, long after Freddy had let it go. “Let what has died, rest in peace, mom. Let it be. It is done.” 

“I am not done talking about it! Not until you hear my words, and know they’re true, Freddy-Bear. She -left- you. She didn’t -love- you. She -used- you. You were -nothing- to her, or that family. Why can you not see that? For God's sake, Freddy, she already has that man staying at her own home! In the bed you used to sleep in! How can you not be angry about that? Especially when that little conniving whore didn’t eve -- “ 

Freddy slapped his hands on the table with as much force as he could muster. The vibration shook up his forearms, rattled his elbows, and even jarred his head. His legs pushed him upwards, their strength found in rage, only to quickly wilt beneath him the moment they felt his weight. He wavered, but held onto the table for support. “I SAID STOP IT!” He snarled, slapped his palm against the table one more time, and then pointed a skeletal finger towards his mother accusingly. “If I so much as hear another WHISPER of your vitriol, I will leave, and not return. Do you understand me, mom? The next time Lydia’s name passes your lips, it will be a compliment.”

Brdigette stood shocked at the sink. She stared at her son in disbelief, for in this moment he looked exactly like his father. Red faced, furious, shaking, and sputtering. It was nearly uncanny. A long silence filtered between them, punctuated only by Freddy’s ragged breathing, which culminated into a wet, hacking cough that sent him back into his seat. He groaned, hand pressed to his stomach, while hot blood dribbled down his neck. He needed to change the dressing on his wounds, and decided that would be his escape. 

Without a word, Freddy stood, and limped his way towards the small bathroom on the lowest floor. He didn’t close the door behind him as he sat upon the toilet seat to begin the arduous process of cleaning his wounds. The Spiders bite on his neck never healed, and neither did the gore wound from the Boar. They were constant reminders of the hell he endured, and would likely be that way until the Forest called him home. No matter what he did, or how many times he tried to suture the wounds closed, they would reopen again. Freddy peeled the linens from around his neck, tossing them in a bucket nearly piled high with puss, and blood stained bandages from times before. He got up to inspect the wounds in the dirty old mirror, but they still looked as fresh as the moment the Spider’s fangs bit into him. 

With a sigh, Freddy began to stuff the wounds with gauze, and then wrap the bandages. However, his arms were too weak to be held up that long. They shook, wavered, and his shoulders burned from the effort, until they fell uselessly against the sink. Freddy looked down at them, betrayed, and frustrated. Slowly, his eyes cast themselves up to his reflection, and the man staring back at him was still just as foreign as the first time he saw him: ragged beard, a bird's nest of debris. Hair long, and ragged down his back. Features so gaunt he looked skeletal. He didn’t look like he remembered. Or perhaps he had always looked like this. Sometimes, it’s hard to recall.

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror. His mother’s words had cut him deeply, but not in the way she had intended. She had wanted to stoke a righteous fury in him, to make him resent Lydia, and her family as much as she did. Instead, she merely crushed his already beleaguered psyche beneath the weight of her implications. Dierdre had not sugar coated anything when she sat him down in her home once he’d rested. She had told him of the wicker construct, how it tortured Lydia, how it masqueraded as him, wearing his face, and body like a costume. She had even told him how Lydia had made her peace with losing him. She had let him go, because that was easier than constantly having hope that would be crushed time, and time again whenever that thing came around. In her peace, she had found someone new. Freddy couldn’t bring it in himself to blame her. He couldn’t even be angry with her. She did what she had to for her heart, and her sanity. 

It still hurt. 

It hurt in ways he couldn’t quite put into words. It hurt not because it was a betrayal, or he felt abandoned, but because the love he felt for her wasn’t strong enough to withstand these trials. He had loved, and fought, and yearned to return, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. In so many ways, Freddy had never been enough for anyone. He wasn’t enough for his father, his mother, his teacher, and now to know he wasn’t enough for Lydia? It broke him in ways he didn’t think he could endure. He was too broken now for any semblance of the life he had left that day. His body too weak, and fragile, his mind too fractured, and these wounds too real to deny. He couldn’t see her when Dierdre told him everything. He couldn’t face her. He couldn’t face the fact that in the end? 

He wasn’t enough, and now, he never could be. 

Freddy felt a hand on his shoulder, and he recoiled away from it, knowing it was his mother. She didn’t say anything, instead just picked up the bandages, and slowly wrapped them around his neck, and shoulder. Silence weighed heavy between them, punctuated only by the small wheezes, hiccups, and gasps that rattled Freddy’s lungs. “Sit down,” His mother instructed, voice as gentle as she could make it, and gestured to the toilet lid. Freddy sat, obedient. 

His mother got to work undoing the bandages around his stomach, and peeled the gauze from the wound with a look of concern, but acceptance. She knew this ritual too well to let it bother her anymore, but there was still that maternal instinct in her to protect her only child. “I was thinking,” She began, cleaning the jagged edges of the puncture with a damp cloth. “I came into a bit of money recently, and the Elsons’ farm has been abandoned for some time...perhaps we could spruce it up. Get you somewhere of your own. Your own little sanctuary away from that vile --” 

Freddy tensed, looking down at his mother with a look that dared her to continue. He had warned her. If she so much as uttered another foul thing, he would leave. They stared at one another for a moment, let it hang in the air, and then fall flat. “Somewhere you can finally call your own.” She finished, and stood to find the fresh gauze beneath the sink. 

“I don’t think I could live on the Elsons’ farm.” Freddy admitted. “It would be too sad.” 

“So? Make happy memories there then. It’s just sitting there anyway, and it’s an eyesore to the whole town. The Mayor wants to get rid of it, or even have it torn down. Why not let it be yours? I am an upstanding citizen after all, and am well liked by the populace, so I am just sure he will give me a good deal on it.” The haughty, vain, and triumphant lilt to Bridgette’s voice made Freddy’s stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine what his mother had been up to in order to become such an ‘upstanding citizen.’ 

“If you want mom.” He relented, figuring she had already decided upon it, regardless of his answer. “Where did you get the money?”

“Oh good! Then I’ll talk to the Mayor tomorrow. Once we have the deed, we can spruce it up. Decorate it. Oh we can just throw out all that old nonsense, and start fresh!” She was absolutely giddy with the idea. At his second question, she waved her hand. “Don’t you worry about that, Freddy-Bear. Momma is gonna provide for you, no matter what.” 

“Yeah. A new start. Sure.” Freddy offered, half heartedly contributing to the conversation as his mother packed the wound with gauze rough enough to make him wince. 

“Then it’s settled! I’ll talk to Gibbs tomorrow, and we can let the past die as you said.” She nodded, and grabbed a fresh roll of bandages. She wrapped them around his midsection, a look of deep contemplation settling on her features. “Oh I have just so many ideas, Freddy-Bear! We can finally make something worth you, a Hughes,  staying in! No more shack in the wilderness for my boy. Oh no, oh no.” 

“It was everything we needed, mom. You know that.” Freddy said with a sigh, truly exhausted by his mother's constant badgering. 

“It was everything SHE needed. You were just a house guest. Need I remind you, Freddy, that a -stranger- is sleeping in your bed?”

Freddy sighed loudly, setting his head in his hands as he aggressively rubbed at his face. “Enough...mom.” He whispered, emotion choking his words. “Just...please...enough…I can’t take it anymore, mom. I can’t. I’m not strong enough, anymore. So please just...stop.” 

Finally, his mother relented. She reached up, and gently cupped Freddy’s cheeks. She wiped away the tears from his eyes, and smiled up at him, though it did not reach her cold gaze. “Okay Freddy. One day, you’ll see I was right, and it will be when you realize you’ll be even stronger without her.” 

She stood, and left him alone in the bathroom, where Freddy sat, and bitterly wept. 

( @drustvar-dragonfly​ for mentions ) 

[amusedyan]

Mother of Legacies

So this was a collab between @hearteyes-candyskies and me! We worked out the plot together and she was kind enough to give me a list of yandere Greek myths for inspiration. We hashed out a lot of this and she was so helpful in picking out the details.

Special thanks to my good friend @lightautumnsky for taking a look at this for me and giving me her opinion- you’re amazing and I owe you big for this.

One more disclaimer; normally I go out of my way to keep my darlings and reader inserts as neutral as possible. Everyone deserves to be a darling no matter gender or race. However, because a lot of Io’s importance is because of her bloodline, I had to keep her female. I’m very sorry, but that’s how this had to happen.

tw: implied forced pregnancy

Your legs ache as you climb the mountain. Your hooves are uncertain in the stone as you journey upwards, and you huff with exhaustion. The sun beats down on your hide and your tongue lolls- you’d never thought to miss sweat before.

Overhead and forward some distance an eagle screeches, and you shudder instinctively. But there is no lightning crossing the sky, and no boom of thunder, and so you continue on.

You make steady ground and in the distance you see him, and you breathe in peace.

You’re so close.

The Adversary, chained to the mountain; beneath his sunburn he is frighteningly pale, with matted dark hair and haunted eyes. He tracks your progress as you approach. There is a gaping, scabbed wound in his side, bleeding sluggishly.

Everyone knows the story- once an ally with the Lord of the Sky, he’d disobeyed to serve humanity. For his insolence, Zeus had stripped his name and chained him to the mountains, his eagle set upon him to tear out his liver every day.

You are so tired, but you’re made the journey, and you feel you deserve a rest, setting yourself down at his feet and looking up at him patiently.

“You’re no normal cow, are you?” He asks bluntly, peering down at you. He doesn’t seem surprised. You shake your head no- and he nods. “Transformation?” You nod in assent. “Nice to know they haven’t changed.”

You want to ask, but he laughs a little. It’s distinctly unamused. “I can understand you. Don’t worry. Now, the details?”

“I don’t quite know where to begin.” You admit carefully. The Eagle is nearby, and you aren’t sure if it’s just an eagle.

The titan catches where you look and assures you that it’s just an eagle. “A pet, that’s all. Let’s begin this way- what have you come for?”

“Do you have a name?” You ask first. “I need to call you something.” Are you imagining the slight quirk of the titan’s lips.

“L. It’s close enough to what was stolen.”

So you begin.

i.

Your name was Io. Is it still? Who knows, a cow can’t introduce herself.

You were a priestess to Hera, but before that you were a princess, princess of Argos. You’d not wanted to marry, and so your parents had bought you a place in the temple, and you had devoted yourself to worship.

That life spoke to you, and you had friends in your sister priestesses, and went about your duties happily- you cleaned your section of the temple, you helped prepare meals, occasionally you even assisted with the sacrifices to the Goddess herself. You would stand behind the senior priestess as she prayed watch the smoke from the altar drift to the sky and think in this I am happy.

Your life continued this way for months, until winter came, and with it came Gamelion- the month blessed for marriage. Engaged women and mothers of the brides and their grooms flocked to the temple to pray for wealth, happiness and love.

Among the ceremony were the plays- plays dedicated to the marriage of your Gods. The performers reenacted the marriage and courtship of the pantheon, and as always, Mighty Zeus ad Hera were among the most frequent.

The temple kept cuckoos for their own performances, and you loved the birds. Only the most senior priestesses were tasked with their care, but you liked to be around them when you had the time.

It was your duty one morning to prepare the altar- you cleaned it and offered your prayers to Hera. You lit incense and kept your voice pitched low. The fruit offered- the finest of oranges- filled the room with it’s citrussy scent. All the smells made your nose itch.

Your eyes were closed when it happened; all you felt was heat. The light was visible through your eyelids, like you were looking straight at the sun when you’d closed them. There was no noise, no smells, nothing- just the light.

When it was gone, the worshippers in the chamber were gaping at you with awe, and your robes were dusted with gold. The offerings to Hera, you realized with growing horror, were gone- replaced by pomegranates.

                                                       --------

“So you were blessed by Zeus.” L interrupts. You nod.

“That’s what the High Priestess said, anyway.”

“How did you feel?”

“Afraid.”

“Oh?”

“Zeus blessed a priestess devoted to Hera in Her own temple while she stood before Hera’s altar.” You elaborate with one more shudder. L hums, and you can see that his fingers twitch.

“And everyone knows what happens to Light’s conquests.” He says quietly, and you frown, as much as you can.

“Light?”

“Continue, Io.”

ii.

One night, soon after, there was a thunderstorm. You lied in your bed, shivering beneath your blankets.

You’d grown up sharing a room with your sisters; the single accommodation afforded to you as a Priestess left you lonely on nights like that. Your youngest sister had been frightened of thunder, and often joined you in your bed to keep from crying out and waking the others.

“It’s only Zeus, little one,” Mother would promise when she caught you both, smiling a little, then leading your sister back to her own bed. “Nothing to fear.”

Lightning arced across the sky with a boom.

Nothing to fear indeed.

You shivered and tucked your blanket under your chin.

Storms had never scared you like this.

But then, you reflected, never had you been in a position where the Lord of Storms had blessed you.

The gold hadn’t come off those robes, and it had taken the temple’s strongest soap to remove it from your skin.

Outside your window, the tree shook with the force of the wind, and the chill crept in. 

Sleep was long coming that night, and it didn’t come easy. Dreams were too much to ask, but sleep you finally did, even with the noise of rivaling the falling of the sky happening outside.

In the morning a bowl of acorns lay on your sill innocently, even if they were all but innocent.

                                                         ----

“That must have been frightening.” 

By now night was falling, and the first of the stars were lit.

“Oh very much. I nearly screamed. But then I’d have woken the others and that’s not fair to them.” You explained. With night falling the flies had finally ceased tormenting you, and you can finally relax.

“What was Misa’s opinion?”

It shouldn’t shock you, L knowing Hera’s second name. He’d once walked with them before his betrayal.

“I received no sign or omen in warning.” You can’t help the bitterness.

By now, the wound in L’s side has nearly healed completely.

You hope to be gone before morning, or at least before the torment begins again.

“What was the High Priestess’ opinion of these occurrences?”

iii.

“Have you actually seen Him?” High Priestess Agnete demanded.

“Of course not! Would I still be here if I had?” You demanded before you could stop yourself. The slap was painful, but not unexpected, and you bowed your head in apology.

“So Zeus has just been...sending you gifts?” And you could actually hear the derision in her voice. Or contempt?

“I know how it sounds, ma’am.” You promised.

“Do you? Because it sounds to me that an under priestess, one who’s hardly belonged to the temple longer than perhaps a fortnight,” and that wasn’t fair- you’d been here more than a year and she damn well knew it, “is claiming that the Lord of the Sky is attempting to court you.”

Court you? Was she serious?

Who in their right mind believed Him capable of courting anyone besides His wife? 

Zeus seduced. He did not court.

“I understand,” you tried again, trying to keep the nervousness from your hands, “how it sounds, but I swear-”

“Say no more or risk punishment for your lies.”

“And the gold?” You demanded, “even you agreed that that was a sign from Him, didn’t you? And oak-”

“A blessing and nothing more. Zeus’ holy tree is the oak- I don’t believe acorns count toward anything significant, Io. Now, if you don’t mind-”

You had a split moment to wonder if Agnete was being thick on purpose, perhaps playing up her ignorance to stay out of matters larger than her, when a screech rendered the air and made both of you look up.

Agnete scrambled back as a sceptre, long and golden, emblazoned with the mark of Light, embedded itself in the ground at your feet. It was nearly as tall as you, slim and well crafted.

To your left there was the fluttering of wings, and an eagle seated itself on the garden wall, watching you with eyes unblinking.

Agnete had whimpered, and you couldn’t help but feel smug satisfaction at being proven right.

                                                           -----

“I take it that things got worse after that?” 

The moon cast shadows on L’s face, and your new eyes had poor sight in the dark. You might have missed his face entirely if not for the shine of moonlight from his eyes. You wonder if he can see you clearly with his hair hanging in his face like that.

“Not at first.”

“Were there any more gifts?”

Gifts, and you couldn’t resist a laugh.

“No. None. I’d gotten the message.”

“But you refused him?”

“Yes. I was a priestess. It was out of the question already.” Besides, Zeus had never turned up to try and goad you into it. Or force, as it were. Your stomach growls. Nothing can be done- the mountain is barren, there’s nothing to graze here. 

iv.

Your sister Priestesses were dying.

It was late, and you were praying feverishly.

You hadn’t slept in several days, nor eaten. 

As they walked about, as they prayed, as they did their chores, they were dropping dead like flies with nothing to forewarn what was happening. The old, the young, the experienced and the newly initiated. Agnete had gone first, and of them, only she had seemed to be in pain.

“Hera, Mother and Wife, Patron of This Holy Temple, to You I Pray,” you whispered, on your knees with your head to the stone floor. You’d been at this for hours. The words were blurring together, and the smoke of the incense was so thick you could hardly see. 

“Rise, Mortal,” a soft voice called, “and gaze upon your Patron.”

Misa, Queen and Mother. She was small and golden haired, dressed in elegant blues and greens, with a crown upon her head and a silver scepter in hand.

You looked at her and you saw Power. You were in the presence of a God, and never before had you felt so small.

“Lady Misa.” You whispered. She nodded.

“Many names have I, Mortal. But you know that, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer; this was all relative. You were in danger. You knew you were in danger.

Misa stepped forward and looked you over. Her eyes were cold as the sea- you were nothing to her, a catalyst to her cult’s destruction at the hands of her husband.

“Zeus pursues you, mortal, though I’m sure you’re aware.”

You swallowed.

“Yes, My Lady.”

She began to circle you, silently as a cat. You couldn’t bear to look in her eyes.

“Never before has my husband been so...brazen, as to pursue a priestess belonging to me. In my own temple.” Was that anger or pain that made the slight Goddess flinch. “He strikes down my own worshippers even.” She tsked, “all for you.”

“My Lady,”

“My Husband pursued me once. With great zeal. But I had something he wanted then. Now you’ve caught his eye. It won’t last long, but until then, you cannot stay here.”

Her sceptre clapped upon the ground and you felt something akin to nausea take you over from the inside out. You stared up at her, even as your flesh changed and your bones turned. There was no pain, just horror.

“Leave my Temple, Io. In this form, Zeus will not find you. I suggest you make use of that gift.” 

And then Misa was gone.

v.

“Is that the end of it?” Asked L. The sun was beginning to peak over the valley below, but the light had yet to touch the mountains. The titan’s side was healed by now.

“Yes. You’re said to be the wisest besides Athena, and you have the gift of Prophecy. Is there any way to undo what was done to me, L?” The name is strange and foreign on your tongue.

L looks south, towards Mount Olympus.

“I spoke the truth to Men before. I Saw what he would become, and I tried to mitigate the damage. For that betrayal he hunted my brothers and sisters and stripped me of my name, chained me to this mountain and tortures me day after day with his damned bird.” His expression equal parts bitter and sad, but when he looks at you he is angry.

“Go South. Beyond the sea is a Land of Sand and Fire, there, there are magics unlike ours. You will find a way to return to your former body. But be warned, Priestess. Should Zeus find you he will get what he wants. And from your unions a bloodline cursed and blessed shall be born. Blessed with the weakness of their dam and cursed with the madness of their progenitor; a line of heroes and kings and monsters.”

The eagle opens its eyes and with a screech descends upon L’s side with a vengeance.

You do not thank the titan, but you do offer a prayer that he might be freed some day.

vi.

It’s a long journey to the South.

You are so tired you can hardly stand, but the sand beneath your feet is undeniable, and you could weep for joy.

From there it’s a blur of heat and confusion. You cannot speak, and never before has this land seen a cow quite like you. Common enough for Greece, but not here.

You are taken to a palace where you are fed and watered and given shelter.

By morning, the court sorcerer has seen you, declared you to be enchanted, and broken Misa’s hold on you.

It’s quite embarrassing; a beautiful woman, naked in the royal stable. But the sorcerer calls for clothing and soon you’re dressed in fabrics so lovely that they might as well be gossamer on your skin for how soft they are.

You spend that night in a bedroom fit for royalty, and you allow yourself to be pampered for the first time in ages.

The King requests that you join him for the evening meal, and you arrive, presenting yourself as the Princess that you are, since you are no longer a Priestess.

Seated on a strange throne is a young man about your age. He watches you with eyes too red and hair of chestnut, but to look at his face is to see a clever face that you have known.

Light, Lord of Storms, Lord of the Skies.

Zeus, King of the Gods.

“Hello, darling.” 

He stands and descends, taking your hands in his when he reaches you.

“You’ve come so far, I’m so proud! You did exactly what I thought you might.” His hand is soft on your cheek, thumb daring to touch your lower lip. In his eyes is greed and lust and pride.

“Did you know, sweet Io, that I overhear what my servants do? Gossip, knowledge, prophecy,” perhaps you might die now. Drop dead like the others. 

But Light continues, unashamed, amused, even.

“Io, Mother of Legacies- it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, my darling?” 

Are the walls closing in?

“And best of all, Hera can’t reach us here.”

His hand cups you middle, imagining the growth there.

“From you springs a dynasty.”

[stanskzseungmin]

HJS ~ The Princess and the Pirate

Pirate! Jisung x Royal! Reader! X (Mentioned) Royal! Chan

Fairytale! + Fantasy! AU

Word Count: 3756

Genre: Angst

A/N: I am using the word “pirate” quite liberally for this story. Jisung isn’t your typical blundering scurvy of the high seas...more like the high...sky? Just, Jisung is not a good person.

A/N 2: This is the same AU as my KWJ ~ I am You, so if you see similarities between the two, you know why x’D

A/N 3: Yes, I just high key copy and pasted the beginning bit of my WJ one here.

A/N 4: Again, not proofread. Shocking lmao. #WeDyingLikeMEN

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there were two kingdoms. One kingdom is a warring kingdom that relied heavily on military. This kingdom prides itself on its massive well trained armies and futuristic technologically advanced aerial warships and mechanized weapons.

The second kingdom wasn’t as militaristically inclined. This kingdom prides itself on its pacifist nature and on its massively well read population and royals. They believe that words are far superior weapons.

Due to the opposing views, tensions arose between the two kingdoms. The military kingdom offered protection under their well trained and well equipped armies in exchange for full willing submission. The pacifist kingdom would politely refuse due to the peaceful times they’re living in. Neither kingdoms were in any danger.

But the military kingdom had other plans. The military kingdom wanted to expand its empire to broaden its reach and influence. The only roadblock: the peaceful kingdom. It was as if the peaceful kingdom had sheltered all the other tribes and villages under their roof by alluring them with sweet words. But words aren’t what makes the world run, it’s a showcase of power.

Everyone within the royal family is well trained in the art of combat. The king is well adept in the art of sword fights and the queen is a master of fencing and she took it upon themselves to train all the guards. In a grand room made of white marble with large windows lining the walls, the sunlight were illuminating the room. There dressed in white protective gear and a fine mesh white mask. Many trainees were in pairs as they were sparring with their sabres. The trainees were overseen by the queen. She had a straight posture with both hands folded neatly behind her back, a sabre held securely flush against her back. Her long dark locks were pulled up into a tight top bun. She wore a tight fitting knee length white dress that was slightly longer in the back long puffy sleeves and a vertical slit cuffed at the wrist as a lovely grey corset wrapped her torso. To finish off the look, she wore knee high leather heel boots. The clicking of her heels was enough to spur anxiety as she held a calculative gaze over everyone. There was a group of trainees gathered around. They surrounded what seemed to be an awe inspiring fight. A singular sabreur was single handedly taking down and disarming everyone who step forward to attack.

“Wow, is that the genius?” one of the trainees whispered.

“Oh so his highness i the genius everyone speak of?” another asked.

The genius handed their sabre to a trainee who came up and and bowed prior to leaving. 

“What are you talking about? The genius isn’t the prince,” the sabreur loosened the strap behind their head and they pulled the mask off swinging their head back and forth letting their long locks uncurl and fall delicately against their back. “The genius is the princess.”

“Y/N,” the queen’s voice was stern and commanding. “You are to appear before your father in the throne room half past noon.”

“Yes, mother,” you bowed politely as you head out to change to a proper attire.

Your servant aided you by your styling your dark locks into soft curls and held back with a hair comb. You don a lavish pink silk dress that extended to the floor with a long sleeves that extended past your hands and a blue silk wrap around your torso giving you a rather oriental appearance. 

Folding your hands in front of you as you held up the front of your skirt, you head towards the throne room before your father. The guards has opened the large ravish dark oak doors for you as you walked towards your conversing father and elder brother.

“Big brother. Father,” you greeted bowing slightly before them. You fell before deaf ears.

“This blasted kingdom with their talks of peace!” the king, your father, ranted pacing back and forth and throwing his arms in the air. “Why can’t they just make it easy and just surrender to us! Pathetic king.”

“I have a suggestion, father,” your brother started, raising an arm in suggestion.

“Invasion?”

“No!” you interjected. “Invasion will disturb our times of peace, those who ally will them will turn on us if we settle on invasion.”

“Bold words from my daughter, it’s as if you’re one of them! We need to expand, my daughter. Our power must grow and remain unmatched. We will become the greatest kingdom of all.”

“But father, we must focus on within, there are pirates and bandits within our boundaries.”

You brother scoffed as he chuckled softly to himself.

What you believed was dangerous and speaking your mind could get you jailed or banished. Or worse-- killed. This used to be the palace of your childhood-- a place where you once called home with a loving father, mother, and brother. But now after countless victories during the tides of war, their power and influence soared as did their hubris. Your family became strangers.

You straightened up and inhaled shakily. “In order to establish a large empire, a sturdy foundation is needed. If the foundation falls, the entire empire falls.“

“My daughter, you are dearest to me. What do you suggest we do?”

“Father, I may have a better suggestion. Two birds with one stone. Sister is right when she mentioned a strong foundation. If we invade the the other kingdom we would have a follower of distrust. Since it is beloved’s sisters idea, she could marry the other kingdom’s prince with the promise of peace. Lower the guard, then strike when they least expect it!”

“Big brother!” you snapped offended by the elder’s suggestion. 

“Why, that’s a brilliant idea! Wonderful!” your father exclaimed pridefully. 

“Father! You promised that you wouldn’t marry me off! I am not an object that could be handled and passed,” you pleaded. Your voice was weak and cracking as your eyes welled up in tears from betrayal.

“Times change, my dear,” your father stated. Turning to your brother, “I will prepare the aerial ships and calvary for the upcoming attack. My son, travel to the other kingdom offering our proposal. My dearest daughter can marry their eldest, Bang Christopher Chan.”

“But father!” you tried to interject.

“Silence!” your father boomed. “You’re dismissed.”

 You dashed out of the room feeling utterly destroyed and betrayed. The clinking of your heels echo loudly throughout the marble floors of the hallways. Tears free fell from your eyes as your check constricted painfully. Pulling open the door of your room and slamming it shut behind you, you threw yourself onto your bed sobbing into your arms. You remained in bed for a couple of hours wallowing in your self pity. The sun had set and your room became enveloped in darkness.

Sniffling softly you looked to your bedside table. Resting atop of it in a delicate frame was a past picture of your family. It displayed the smiling faces of your younger parents, you of your childhood years and your elder brother of his teenage years. The family of yours… of the past-- of your childhood. They were not your family anymore. This was no longer your home. Blinking your stray tears away, you stood up, kicking away your heels, unwrapping your blue wrap and letting your hair free from its comb. You slid on a pair of comfortable flats as you rummage through your room, pulling back at the week stones to reveal a hidden compartment. Your fingers delicately grasped at the item wrapped in lining. You dragged your fingers over the fabric as your heart beat in nostalgia. You quickly unwrapped the item revealing a custom rapier that your elder brother had gifted your years before. It was your most prized possession, it was the only thing you had left of your elder brother. You secured it to your waist via a simple black belt. You climbed out your window as you looked one last time at the room of your childhood as you turned away and disappeared into the night.

The night was Han Jisung’s veil. As soon as the daylight diminishes, Jisung slithers out of the darkness and begin to wreak havoc. Jisung hated the empire with a vengeance. His parents were victims of the empires unnecessary wars and conquests. While they gained, the people suffer. Whenever they boast and lie about their victories and gloat about the people’s sacrifice as honorable, another person pays the price. The person is the people.

Ever since the death of his parents, Jisung became a pirate and swore to take down the empire. He hardly had any empathy for the inhabitants of the empire. They blindly follow the empire like the sheeple they are without doubt that the empire is the sole reason for their suffering. They only see the glory and power, not the destruction and the pain.

Jisung befriended the bandits and ruffians of the empire that shared his view. One of which is his closest friend, Hwang Hyunjin. They bonded over their shared pain feeling empathy and condolences towards the other’s situation. He too lost his family due to the war. With the combined might and experience in the arts of deceit and manipulation, they’re able to secure an aerial ship from the military when they were beaten and battered by war. Together with his close friend, Hyunjin, they both lead that ship. Hyunjin and the ship were currently situated hidden deep outside the walls with Jisung within the main walls working as the inside man, learning information, gathering resources and weakening their supplies.

Jisung was currently jumping from roof to roof taking reconnaissance of the area he was in. In the dark veils of the night and the poorly lit streaks, he spotted a figure in pink dressed in the finest silk sticking out like a sore thumb. Jisung immediately recognized you. You were the crowned princess of this accursed empire. Hatred bubbled within his chest as he drew his blade. However, a thought did cross his mind. Why were you wandering the streets at night when pirates, bandits, rapists and murderers hiding in the shadow?

Speak of the devil because a group of men stumbled out of the speakeasy. The were obnoxiously loud and bordering the point of unconsciousness. They obviously were drunk with the stumble in their step, the slurs of their words and their reddened faces.

“Ayy, fellas. Look at this beauty,” the man slurred. The other men laughed as they surrounded her. 

“Begone or you will regret it,” you threatened, your voice stern as you reached for your trusted sabre.

Jisung smirked at your bravado. 

“The kitten wants the play,” another man chuckled as they all began to grab at you.

“Stop!” you commanded trying to tear away from their grip.

Although Jisung despised you, he despised victims being taken advantage of even more. Grumbling softly to himself, Jisung leapt off the roof landing before the men with a loud thud.

“Leave the young lady alone,” Jisung threatened, his voice dripping with venom. 

“Mind your own business, kid,” one spat.

“How about you mind yours?”Jisung threatening unsheathing his blade.

Sensing Jisung’s heated aura and gazing upon on his blade, they realized he was deadly serious as they all scrambled off in fear.

“I- you didn’t have to, kind sir,” you bowed slightly. “I thank you.”

Jisung warily looks at you up and down and hesitantly accepts her gratitude. 

“Do you not have anywhere to go?” Jisung started, sheathing his blade in the holdest by his side.

You shook your head. “Not anymore,” you whispered.

Jisung contemplates taking you in, after all you are the enemy, but a brilliant thought struck him. You were the crowned princess of the empire. He could use you as leverage to take down the empire. 

“Would you like to stay with me? I know a place,” Jisung offered with a sickenly sweet smile.

You bit your lip contemplating your offer. It wouldn’t be long before you were noticed to be missing and you couldn’t risk being seen. There were a high rise of crime activity within the walls during the night. You sighed as you were left with no other option.

You nodded hesitantly. “If it wouldn’t bother you, I accept.”

Jisung smiled as he led you to his hidden spot. It was run down and broken. The old wood was splintering and wearing away with age. The building looked to be abandoned long ago. There were hardly any furniture, the ones that were there were in disrepair and dusty. There were several coarse cloths and rags lining the walls and the floors.

“What is your name? I would like to know the name for the kind man who has saved me,” you smiled politely.

“Jisung,” he stated. Jisung decided to give out his actual name to gain your trust. You were valuable to his plan to take down the empire.

“I am F/N,” you decided against revealing your true identity. Jisung scoffed internally. Of course you would give a fake name.

Time goes by and the pair become closer. Some nights where Jisung would sit at the window watching the stars, he thinks back to all the times he spent with his family and his close friend, Hyunjin. These were the nights Jisung felt the loneliness creep in. However, your presence made those nights feel a little easier. Jisung enjoyed the little talks you would have and you felt the same. You both had similar views about the victims of war. Like Jisung, you wanted to help. You both would bunker down during the day as Jisung occasionally left to gather some new clothes and supplies as well as bringing some food. You often wonder where Jisung would get the supplies and you were certain it wasn’t by legal ways, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. When night fell and you are fast asleep, Jisung tended to slip out and meet up with Hyunjin outside the walls to discuss future plans.

“What do you want to do?” Hyunjin asked. “Are you still going to use her?”

Jisung contemplated it. His heart ached at the thought of deceiving you.

“I want to let her in,“ Jisung whispered.

“What?” Hyunjin breathed out. “But she’s the enemy?”

“I can’t leave her alone. She isn’t like what we thought at all,” Jisung looked directly at his best friend’s eyes. Jisung expect Hyunjin to blow up at him and shouting profanities at him and how he’s risking it all. He didn’t expect for Hyunjin to smile at him fondly.

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin asked with sincerity.

“Really?” Jisung stuttered.

“What?”

“You’re not going to give me shit?”

“No, you deserve to be happy,” Hyunjin smiled.

Jisung couldn’t ignore the change he’s been feeling. He’s grown fond of you. His heart would beat rapidly whenever in close proximity with you. Jisung could swear his cheeks were beet red whenever you smiled and let out a whole hearted laugh. His heart skipped a beat whenever your eyes would shut whenever you laughed. Your laugh was like music to his ears. Whenever you were happy, he was as well.

 Currently, you both were sitting under the shade of a tree just outside the walls watching the sunset. The atmosphere was tense and quiet, but they found comfort just being in close proximity of each other. Both were looking off to the side, distracted by the thoughts running through your minds. You were debating on whether or not to reveal your true identity and Jisung was thinking the same. What if you wouldn’t stay? Would you hate him? 

“Jisung?” you soft voice broke through the silence and snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Y-yea?” Jisung cursed at himself mentally for stuttering.

“I have something to tell you,” you gulped. “I would like for you to listen to what I have to say fully before you say anything.”

“Of course.”

Letting out a shaky exhale, you began to reveal everything. Your real name and how you ran away from the empire. You didn't like their militaristic ideas and the monsters they’ve become because of power. They weren’t your family anymore. Your voice was weak and was cracking as you continued on, pausing every once in a while to sniffle and gasp, wiping away your tears.

Jisung pulled you into his arms and comforted you. He rubbed small circles onto your back as he pulled you into his chest. Your fingers reach up for the fabric and gripped it, letting the tears flow. Jisung could feel the wet spots forming on his shirt, but he couldn’t care less.

“I’m scared,” you whispered out. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be taken back.”

“You won’t. I promise,” Jisung’s words were sincere.

You both made eye contact and it seemed fireworks exploded. Both your hearts lept in your chests as lingering gazes fell straight to the lips. Getting caught up in the moment, the two lean in. Their noses touch lightly as rubbed against each other softly. Both erupted into big smiles and small giggles. They leaned in ever so closer as a harsh gush of wind snaps them out of the moment. They quickly pull away and blush. 

“Well, well,” a voice started. You both jumped up at the voice. You squeaked as you recognized the figure before you

“B-big brother!” You hide behind Jisung.

He chuckles darkly. “Little sister, it’s been so long. Don’t you know how worried I was?”

“Leave her alone,” Jisung threatened, recognizing the lies weaved within his sweet words.

“You never cared about me,” you accused as you glared at him, willing away the tears that threatened to spill.

“But I have, I always did. Do you really think this boy going to protect you?”

“Better than you…” you spat.

“Dear sis, I would like to have you know is that this man has been lying to you all along,” your elder brother smirked.

 “W-what are you talking about?” Jisung stammered. “I haven’t lied to her.”

He smirked, ignoring Jisung. “Dearest sister. Han Jisung here is a pirate! Did you really believe he cares for you? He’s our enemy!”

“W-what?” you choked, feeling your heart shatter. “Y-Y/N,” Jisung stammered as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Is...is it true?” you whispered.

Jisung wept as he nodded pathetically. “Y-yes. Yes, I am. I’m a pirate, but I meant everything I sa-”

  You shove him back. “Don’t. You-You lied to me. You were going to use me all along were you.” Tears now ran down your cheeks in waterfalls as you backed away from him. You felt the familiar sting of betrayal as you did back then.

 “Y/N please, I'm not using you. I really care for you. Y/N, I love-” .”

You cut him off, placing your hands over your ears and screamed, “Stop. Stop it. I don't wanna hear any more of your lies!”

You ran off sobbing profusely.

“Wait!” Jisung tried to chase after you, but your older brother cut him off. He chuckles at Jisung with a dark look in his eyes. Growling at the elder, Jisung unsheathed his knife as he took a swing at him. Your brother easily dodging Jisung’s attack. As if he was playing with a baby, your brother easily sidestepped the flurry of Jisung’s attack. Jisung lunged at him with a loud roar as he sidestepped Jisung and bringing a hand down to the back of his neck. Jisung’s eyes widen as he gasped. Jisung fell unconscious to the floor upon contact.

You were found huddling behind a bush, your knees pulled to your chest. You sobbed pathetically as your body shook. You gasped and wheezed as you tried to control your tears, but they kept coming out in never ending streams. A pair of legs appeared into view. You looked up at the figure. 

“B-big brother.”

“Baby,” he smirked using the nickname he always referred to you by in your younger years. He outstretched his arms, prompting you to run into them. Your elder brother enveloped your sobbing form in a big hug.

 “Poor baby got her heart broken by the pirate, haven’t she?.” He paused. 

You sobbed, nodding pathetically in his chest.

“I’m sor-” You gasped as your eyes widen. 

He ran you through with a small blade with it piercing through her heart. “This is your punishment for defying the empire.” The fabric of began to stain a brilliant red from your blood.

He gently set you down on the soft grass and delicately closed your eyes, planting a small kiss on your forehead..

“Rest well, little sister.”

“Jisung,” a voice echoed. “Jisung!”

Jisung slowly opens his eyes and groaned. The back of his head was throbbing from where he was struck. 

His eyes widened as he quickly sat up. “Y/N!”

“Jisung? What’s the matter?” Hyunjin asked with worry etched on his face.

“I need to- I need to find Y/N!” 

 “What has happened?”

“Her brother! He found her.”

Hyunjin nodded, understanding the situation. He offered Jisung his hand. “We’ll find her.”

They went their separate ways. Jisung looked around the surrounding locale as he went in to investigate the outskirts of the woods. Jisung froze in his tracks. His eyes are wide as he gazed at the sight before him. Horror was etched on his face. Jisung dropped to his knees. His breath was taken away and his heart was hammering in his chest. Tears began welling up in his eyes.

“Y/N?” He choked out.

You was lying there with you hands neatly folded over her body in a pool of your own blood. Dried tears decorated your cheeks. You looked to be at peace. Despite the dried tears, your face was free of any pain and appeared as you were having a peaceful slumber. Jisung slowly crawled his way over to you. He reached out to touch you. His fingers were feathering over your cheeks as if he was afraid of breaking you even more. Jisung carefully brought you up to his chest and delicately wrapped his arms around you as he erupted into loud sobs. 

He screamed out, his voice tearing through the silence of the night. “I’m-I’m sorry… I’m so so so sorry. I love you, I love you so much.”

Jisung let out one last sob as he collapsed with you in his arms.

[fleursowl]

Now and Forever

An unprompted fic that came to me in the middle of the night. I don’t remember writing it, which is a little creepy, but ah well.

Warnings: infidelity (kinda??), a LOT of angst, barely barely there but if you squint you can see where it would be suggested smut

Simon

I didn’t want to do it. Hell, I wish I hadn’t done it. But I did.

Baz had too much to deal with, too many problems and fights to face to deal with me. After all, he’d fallen in love with Simon Snow, the Chosen One, the future Mage, the magician.

And now I am none of those things- except Simon Snow. I still don’t feel like him very much, either.

I don’t feel like him especially when I lie in the spare bed of Dev’s flat, ignoring the worried messages and missed calls from him.

You’d have thought he’d given up by now.

It’s been a two weeks, after all.

Two weeks since I walked out.

Baz

The only way I know he isn’t dead is through Penny.

She’s sitting opposite me, her eyes sad, but not the my-best-friend-is-missing-and-could-be-dead type of sad, the yes-Baz-I-know-he’s-breaking-your-heart type of sad. She refuses to tell me where he is, though.

“Come on, Baz.” she attempts, poking my foot with hers. “You haven’t even left the flat for two weeks. Dev and Niall will be there, and Micah, and everyone else-“

“Fine.” I interrupt, just to get her to shut up. Crowley, I can’t stand living with myself. “I’ll come.”

Simon

I’m not sure why I let Dev persuade me into coming. After all, I’m hiding, arent I? Hiding from Baz- hiding from my responsibilities- hiding from my life. But I suppose it’ll be a good distraction from all of those things.

When we get there it’s just me, Dev and Niall- Trixie and her girlfriend (I forget the name) haven’t arrived yet. There’s a boy across the bar looking at me unsubtly underneath his eyelashes, and it makes me feel slightly ill. I stand up, and the blood rushes to my head.

“I’m just going for a smoke.” I announce, and make accidental eye contact with the boy once more before walking into the alley and lighting a cigarette.

“Hi.” the boy says, appearing next to me and leaning against the wall.

“Hi?” I say more uncertainly, and before I know what’s happening, I’m being pushed against a wall and being snogged within an inch of my life.

It’s weird. I’ve only ever kissed two people in my life, and this boy isn’t like either of them. Agatha was soft and tentative and never really there, always chaste- and Baz was, well, Baz was everything.

This boy is neither of those things. But he’s a distraction.

A small, choked noise is made to the side of us, and we jump apart. Well. I jump. The boy’s hand is still on my hip.

I look to the side, and, standing there, is Baz and Penny. Penny looks extremely uncomfortable and also rather scared, but behind that is a pity I can’t bloody stand to see.

Baz looks ruined.

Baz

Simon Snow is standing in front of me. Simon Snow, who I haven’t seen in two weeks. Simon Snow, my boyfriend. Or so I thought.

I’ve been stabbed before. I’ve been shot before. I’ve been shoved inside a coffin with no food water air or blood, and it was nothing like this.

Nothing compares to this pain.

He’s standing there, panting, with his hair messy just like I make it, and his cheeks red just like I make them, and his lips swollen just like I turn them. Except, this time it wasn’t me.

I’d always had my suspicions that I wasn’t alive, but now there’s no doubt. There’s no way in hell or on earth that you can feel like this, feel this pain, have this screaming mantra in the back of your head, have this hand clutched around your heart, without being alive.

Oh, how I wish I was dead.

Simon

His grey eyes have turned almost black, and he’s shaking.

“So,” he whispers, clenching his fists, “This is where you’ve been.”

“Baz, no, it’s not-“ He’s walking away. “Baz- wait!” I call desperately after him.

“Let him go, Simon.” Penny says sadly. “There’s nothing you can say right now.”

But I’m not going to do that.

I’ve known for a long time now, and seeing the hurt in his eyes, the raw betrayal, the pure, truthful pain, I’m in pieces. This is how it feels, I think, this is how it feels to be in love.

I’ve liquidised and I’m spilling down, down, down into the drains like the scum I am.

How could I do this?

I set off at a run towards our flat- his flat- yet I still don’t meet him on the way there. Curse him and his long, fit legs.

To my surprise, there’s still a key in my pocket.

Well. It’s now or never.

Baz

As soon as I reach our flat- my flat- I collapse onto the nearest chair by the table, still shaking.

The tears take a while to come, shock having numbed my brain and nerves. But oh, when they come, they come. I’m crying him a river, yet he’s basking in the ocean, and I’m drowning, I’m drowning, I’m drowning-

At some point I must have thrown a vase across the room- the vase he produced when he pulled a bunch of roses out from behind his back on the third week, mumbled stutters of I know you’re not a girl but immediately covered by an intense kiss that lead to an intense tangle of sheets and gasps and first times.

There’s a noise at the door, but I don’t register it. I’m slumped over the table, my hands in my hair, and for one of the first times in my life, I don’t care what I look like. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. All I can do is sit here and cry, sit here and hurt hurt hurt.

Simon

I��ve never seen Baz cry before. Sure, he got a little teary at the end of Titanic- even though he vehemently disputed this- and sometimes he cries a little in his sleep, in the middle of what seems to be a bad nightmare, but by the time I’ve shaken him awake and pressed soft kisses to his forehead, he’s fast asleep again, cheeks already dry.

This is nothing like that.

This is an avalanche.

He’s sitting at the table, shaking. Still shaking. There’s a- Crowley, is that a pool of tears on the table? I turn, and see a smashed vase on the other side of the room.

Fuck, this is it.

“Baz.” I say quietly, moving towards him. He startles, looking up at me, and tears are still streaming down his cheeks- pooling in his eyes and then spilling over, accompanied by heart-wrenching shudders. “Baz, love, I-“ I reach towards him, and he flinches away so hard he falls off his chair.

“You don’t get to call me that right now.” he says, and where there would be venom, where I know he intends for there to be venom, there is just a chasm of sadness. I pull up a chair, and sit.

He stands up, and walks out of the room.

Oh, Crowley.

Penny

Simon Snow is an idiot, and you heard it here first.

Well, maybe that’s a little harsh. He isn’t an idiot. He just doesn’t think. I know he’s in love with Baz, but I also knew that Baz has been in love with him since second year. I just decided not to tell Simon.

But Crowley, you’d think Simon would’ve worked it out. A fool could’ve seen.

The same goes for Baz- the amount of times he’s quietly confessed to me that he doesn’t think Simon loves him is, well, shocking. A fool could see the love Simon has for that boy. He just doesn’t always know how to show it.

And now it’s all going to blow up. I’m not going to be a part of it this time. I’ve had enough of fixing them. They need to work this out themselves, for once.

Simon

Baz is sitting by the window with his knees pulled into his chest and his chin rested atop them. It makes him look younger, and my heart tugs. I sit down on the floor next to him. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence.

“I’ve never been the best with words.” I start, and a flicker of something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. “But I want to try.”

I get up, and sit cross legged opposite him on the window seat, taking his hand.

He doesn’t pull away. It’s a start.

“Having my magick taken away from me- giving my magick away- is like- it’s like a part of me is missing.” I begin, and his eyes briefly meet mine before he looks away. He looks pitiful, even now. “And I’ve tried to fill that missing part of me with other things. Things like you, and Penny, and Dev and Niall, and- I don’t know, just, having someone. But I need to be someone.”

“You are someone.” Baz whispers. “You’re everything. You’re everything to me and Penny.”

We stare at each other for a few, intense seconds, and my breath is taken away.

“I just- for fuck’s sake Baz, I have so many emotions.” I groan, banging my head against the window. It rattles. “And, the way I feel about you, it- it scares me sometimes.”

“I scare you?” Baz whispers, looking up. If I thought he looked hurt before, in the alley, this is a million times worse. This time it looks like he hates himself.

“No! Baz- Baz, love, that’s not what I meant.” I whisper, stroking his hand with my thumb. “I meant- the way I feel about you- how intense and powerful and consuming it is- that scares me. And, well, I’m not the Chosen One anymore, am I.” I laughed humourlessly. “That’s who you fell in love with. My magick. So I had to leave- before it got worse. Before you were tied down with a useless, uninteresting sod like me.”

“Simon Snow.” Baz whispers, “If tonight has proved anything, it’s that you are far from uninteresting.” He leans forward, taking my other hand. “I didn’t fall in love with the Chosen One. Yes, that’s what first attracted me to you, but that’s not what I fell in love with.” He takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes. “I fell in love with the boy who jumped in a lake in the middle of winter to save a baby bird. The boy who eats crisps at his desk, and can’t concentrate unless he’s chewing on something. Who always wakes up smiling, no matter what nightmare he’s had the night before. Who never gives up on his friends, ever, and always sees the good in people. Who has faults, and flaws, like every other fucking human being, but is inherently a good person. And that’s you,” he jabs me in the stomach, “not your magick.”

“You love me?” I whisper, caught massively off guard.

“Crowley, Snow, is that all you took from that? Yes, I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time now, and I don’t intend to stop anytime soon.” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. It contrasts so greatly with his red-rimmed eyes that I burst out laughing- or crying, I’m not sure which I’m doing.

“Fuck, Baz, I love you, I love you, I’m so in love with you” I laugh-sob, collapsing into his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” Baz nuzzles into me, his body relaxing.

Baz

He’s home, and he’s in my arms, and that’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter that he smells like another boy and cheap alcohol, he’s here. He’s crying into my chest, and I’m crying into his shoulder. But we’re both laughing.

“Wanna go shower?” I offer tentatively. Simon pulls off me, and nods, wiping his eyes. We stand up, and he takes a deep sigh. “Yeah, that would be good. I feel, I dunno, unclean.”

I pinch my nose and smirk at him. “Yeah, and you smell it too.” He grins, and punches me on the shoulder.

Simon

I could live as long as eighty, and I will never get used to the sight of Baz naked. He gets in the shower before me, of course, bloody bathroom hog that he is, and I nearly slip over when I see him.

Crowley, he’s fit.

I move towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his shoulder.

“Hello there, Snow.” he says without turning around, and I hum softly into his shoulder.

“Any reason you’re being so touchy?”

I let myself relax into him, the full weight of everything that happened sinking in.

“I’m sorry.” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I didn’t like it.” Another kiss. “‘Was strange.” Another kiss. “Not like you.” Another kiss. “Nowhere near as good as you.” Another kiss. “Didn’t even want it.” Another kiss. “I’ve missed you.” A longer, heavier kiss.

By the time I’m finished Baz is flushed- he must’ve drunk before he went out with Penny- and is panting slightly. He spins around, his hands on my waist, and fixes me with a look that makes me shiver all over.

“Let’s get his smell off you, shall we?” he murmurs, pressing me against the wall. I sigh in relief, and tilt my head back.

This is home. This is where I want to be. In Baz’s arms.

Now, and forever.

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Fangs, Horns and Halos: Part 1

Fandom: Castlevania Type of Fic: Continuation from end of Season 3, with some OCs. Contains: Angst, fluff, smut, violence all the good Castlevania stuff. Will attempts be made maintain cannon characterisation? Yes. Will I feel the need to Karen because I’m a purist? If you have to ask this question then the answer is a definite, yes. This is my fic and I’ll do what I like - you don’t have to agree, but I’m not interested in your haircut or your nastiness. Can I, or an OC of mine be in it? It’s possible, I write my friends’ OCs into stories all the time. Maybe you should drop me a note and say hi!

Should I comment and reblog? Um, yeah, because that’s what keeps my interest and inspiration high and continuing writing. I’m also open to ‘wonderings’ and ‘suggestions’ so by all means, talk to me!

If you would like a tag, just let me know.

<3 B

@loverofdeath666

_____________________________________

Hector was used to the monstrosities his gift created - after all, one could not expect dead flesh imbued with a hell-soul to resemble perfection. That is why he now found himself paralysed, staring at the creature on the stone slab before him.

Not twisted.

Not teeth and claw and scale.

Not slime and acid and brimstone.

She laid in perfect proportion, not a single blemish upon her naked skin, with a crown of mahogany waves draped about her head. The generous round of her breasts rose and fell with steady breath, and though her eyes remained closed her long, dark eyelashes trembled with the suggestion of dreams.

When her fingers twitched he scuttled back, his Forgemaster’s hammer held in a bloodless grip.

It didn’t make sense, but there it was.

In a growing panic, he looked to the door, expecting Lenore to appear. She would sway across the room, disapproval if not rage hidden beneath the pale of her face and demand to know the meaning of such a creation.

This was not a warrior, a machine of war; how could he possibly explain the presence of this vision?

Destroy it?

Again he considered his hammer, but in this next moment of pause the woman sat, and blinked, her lips slowly parting.

“Say nothing,” he told her in a sudden fluster.

If he had forged her, she was bound to him, bound to loyalty and obedience as he was to Lenore.

“What is this?” she asked, demanded, her tone quiet yet somehow enraged.

Without waiting for him to respond, she swung her legs to the floor - but they seemed to lack strength and she wobbled.

The moment Hector’s fingers came into contact with her skin - a reflexive attempt to prevent her from falling - he was struck with an almost overwhelming sense of ecstatic dread.

Paradoxical joy and impending doom.

She was not cold or clammy like the death he knew, nor torrid and feverish as he knew Hell could be; no, her temperature was mild and pleasant, that of any woman waking from a pleasant nap.

Except she was obviously not any woman.

“What is that?” Lenore’s voice cracked from the foundry door, her normally placid expression a sharp reflection of venom.

“Ah,” Hector fumbled, his palm still flat against the woman’s hip, his grasp lightly holding her forearm. “I just…”

Before he could make a sentence resembling comprehensible, the unclothed woman pulled ree and stepped away from him, a little closer to Lenore.

“Did you forge this thing?” Lenore barked, peering through to Hector as if the brunette was transparent.

“This thing is unimpressed by your demeanour,” the woman announced, coldly glaring at the haughty vampire.

Not at all used to being reprimanded, let alone by a night creature - however it looked - Lenore blinked in shock: shock that a night creature bound to Hector, who was bound to her, could even be so insolent.

With all the speed of her ilk, Lenore lashed out, pointed fingernails going for the throat; but she let out an unflattering and most undignified cry, she found her wrist caught.

As if in slow motion - so unfathomable was what occured next- Hector watched Lenore be flung across the foundry like a spineless ragdoll. Awkwardly, she crashed into the stab, her head cracking solidly against the bloody stone as she cartwheeled over its gorey surface.

A panic exploded in Hector’s chest, though his thoughts remained his own on that matter of what Lenore deserved, he was compelled to fly to her assistance. Not that she really needed it.

With an inhuman shriek, she sprang toward her foe, a flash of heavy cloth across Hector’s field of view that…

… suddenly stopped…

… and dangled…

… in the grip of the woman, awe inspiring and majestic with the wide spread of black-tipped white feather wings spread out behind her.

“Wretched,” she growled into Lenore’s face, dark eyes flashing with terrible promise, “and accursed.”

Though astonished, Hector’s body was compelled toward Lenore, but he could not reach her before an impressive spray of blood painted nearby walls. A strangled croak emerged from Lenore’s crushed throat, ribbons of vitae winding down the naked woman’s arm until she tossed the vampire to the side.

“Bu… how?” Hector panted, his pallor more blanched than usual as he drew Lenore’s gasping body into his lap.

No answer was forthcoming.

The angelic woman darted for the window and did not pause; she leapt through the glass, a spray of glittering shards against the stormy night sky.

Then she was gone.

It was a long night.

Though Alucard told himself, over and over, he was better off alone because people simply could not be trusted, the betrayal by Sumi and Taka truly left him more lonely than ever.

As dawn extinguished the stars, he made his way out of the dilapidated castle and wandered through the forest with a fishing rod over his shoulder. Light began to filter through the trees, and animals awoke to provide a peaceful accompaniment to his morning trek to the river.

Upon reaching the gently sloping bank, however, his attention was drawn to the nearby growl of wolves and the harsh caw of crows. Against the green and grey, a white figure laid face down and half submerged - headless, no, head obscured by a tangle of hair and leaves.

The animals looked to Alucard’s first step in their direction, then fled the superior predator by his second. It seemed an unlikely place for a corpse to wash ashore, but Alucard noted the beginnings of a beaver dam had altered the river’s flow: but even over the water’s soft chatter, he could hear the faint sound of something not belonging to the forest. It might have been voices, or chimes, a choir in full song in a language he could not understand; it was beautiful, incomprehensibly divine and yet every now and then the Devil’s chord struck out a sinister whisper.

This caused him to hesitate, to be furtive and suspicious, but he could not deny the curiosity that eventually drew him within arm’s reach. It had the form of a woman, but Alucard had known enough monsters in his time to understand that shape alone meant nothing.

On high guard, he carefully crouched and touched against her shoulder blade.

He gasped, filling his lungs almost to the point of bursting.

With significantly greater urgency, he rolled the figure over and her limbs limply followed. She did not open her eyes, but now he could see the slow movement of her bare breasts - amid scratches and bruises, bite-marks and gashes. The map of her skin told him she had faced many attackers, and traces of congealed filth beneath her fingernails suggested monsters had been her foes; and yet she was still alive.

Silently, Alucard fought with himself.

The last people he had welcomed into his home had turned on him. Their skeletons - now picked clean by birds, insects and time - still adorned the steps of his castle.

But his mother flickered in his mind’s eye, looked out at the dishevelled woman, and he knew he could not just leave her here to die of her wounds or exposure.

That didn’t mean he was going to lay her upon a bed of roses nor give her the run of his abode. No.

With great caution he settled her in a room with slender windows - too narrow for a person to squeeze through - one with a fortified door. It was not quite a cell, it was not in the dungeon, but it was secure enough Alucard believed he would not have to worry about being unexpectedly pounced in his own bed.

Diligently, he tended to her wounds, then tucked her beneath warm blankets - always with the call to his sword on the very edge of his consciousness. During the whole process she did not stir, but the soft, compelling sound that lingered around her like an aura, became stronger, more certain.

“But no heartbeat,” he thought, though she was definitely not a vampire.

There were other things in the world.

As he sat by her bedside he contemplated what he’d do when she woke. Of course this depended on what and who she was, but even then the question remained whether he should send her on her way immediately.

But the ridiculous little effigies of Trevor and Sypha he’d made, reminded him how there was a part of himself that needed others now - if he was not to become like his father. He was not stupid, not blind to the traps laid out before him by loneliness.

Those that Dracula had fallen into.

“I ferried him to Hell,” a voice declared, soft but sure, and Alucard focused back in on his ‘guest’.

“Who?” Alucard frowned, his muscles tensing in readiness for confrontation.

“Your father,” she replied, peering up at him with eyes that cast back only his reflection.

Finally she blinked, and as if released from a spell, Alucard rose slowly from his seat.

“Who are you?” he questioned, tone edged with warning, but the woman remained still.

“I… don’t have a name,” she answered, frowning in consternation. “I am just one of many… and yet…”

Her frown became a scowl and she seemed to be in some pain.

“Perhaps you remember what you were doing naked fighting night creatures?” he offered, not moving to offer her sympathy or assistance.

“Fighting back,” she corrected through her teeth, then threw back the blanket. “And nudity is such a… human concept.”

In line with her statement, she didn’t seem the slightest bit abashed at her unclothed state, and was on her feet to inspect the bandages wrapped around her torso and one thigh.

“Hmm, I suppose I should thank you,” she murmured, flexing her fingers, watching them curl toward her palm and then extend again. “You’re the first to not try to kill me since I…”

She scowled again and massaged her temples, eyes half closed.

“Ugh, this body is so… so…”

Alucard bit his tongue to withhold the way he would have finished her sentence.

“No thanks needed,” he said instead. “I try not to kill everyone I come across.”

Her movements were graceful, she had a distinct poise and yet, she was studying herself like she was confused.

“Well that’s reassuring to kno…”

The end of her sentence broke off, her expression one of significant affliction.

As she crumpled, Alucard lurched forward to offer support before easing her back onto the bed.

“Why can’t they hear me?” she cried out, as pain ripped through her skull.

“Who?” Alucard prompted, half-couched before her with his hands at her elbows.

“My brothers. My sisters! Why don’t they come for me?”

Frustrated, Alucard found himself no more knowledgeable of the woman or her circumstances than when he’d found her - everything she uttered was only part of a whole, and he couldn’t fill in the blanks alone.

“I cannot answer that,” he admitted, softening his tone in an attempt to mitigate her distress. “But you are safe here.”

“Am I?” she exhaled, her following inhale slow, like she feared the expansion of her lungs. “Everything is in chaos,” she expounded. “My thoughts, my memories, not meant to be contained by this… this mortal flesh.”

“If not mortal flesh, then what?” he urged, and again she planted her gaze in his, a stare from which he could not look away.

“Death,” she answered, and as she spoke the word that inexplicably melodious choir thrummed in Alucard’s ears. “Souls conveyed to Heaven, souls condemned to Hell.”

“You said you’d ferried my father to Hell,” Alucard recalled.

“Yes,” she answered, her chin dropping a little. “For all the carnage wrought upon the world, born from his insatiable hatred,” she elaborated. “As you drove a stake through his chest. The fall of his head to the Belmont’s blade. The combustion of his body in the Speaker’s fire. I was there, Alucard, to judge his life, sentence his soul and escort him hence.”

Alucard’s eyes widened.

Of course the specifics of Dracula’s demise was not public record, nor had he shared his name with her - but she recounted his father’s death just as it happened.

“Are you suggesting you’re an angel?” he queried, and his hands fell away as she moved to stand once more.

“I was an angel,” she spat, a disgusted sound accompanied by the stretching rustle of wings.

Unfurled, they spanned the entire length of the room, brushing the brickwork with their dusky tips.

“Now… I....” she stammered, her eyes welling. “The Forgemaster has bound me to this plane… how?”

“Forgemaster?” Alucard repeated, his expression darkening, and the woman’s wings slumped, forming a cloak of sorts that seemed to hang from her shoulders.

“He keeps reaching out,” she sneered thickly. “I feel him, pulling at me, desperate to bend my will to his.”

“Forgemasters draw souls from Hell into dead flesh,” Alucard pointed out.

“I know what they do!” she shouted, her body pulsing with a suddenly light that caused the half-vampire to back away. “But here I am! And everything is so… so… broken!”

[warriorofdragons]

Light in the Dark Chapter 10: The Northern Light

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death

Note: {Övüsi is in these brackets}

Additional Note: [Mystery Language is in these brackets]

You’re getting ready for work, when there’s a knock on your door and you go to answer it, but opening the door instead of Hernandez, you’re met with Montehugh and Kandomere.

“Can we come in for a sec?” Montehugh asks.

“Of course,” you say and usher them inside.

They step inside and you shut the door behind them, “What is it?” you ask.

They’re both silent for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” you question.

There has to be some sort of trouble for both of them to be here.

“The Northern Light has landed in L.A.” Montehugh states.

Your eyes widen in shock, “What?! Where?”

“In the elven district, in one of the large gardens,” Kandomere says.

“Is she still there?” you ask hesitantly.

Montehugh nods.

“And you want me to do something about it?” you ask.

Kandomere inhales, “You have been specifically requested to be present during the talks by one of the…higher ups in the Magic Task Force.”

“Me? Talks? So is she just…sitting there? Waiting?” you ask.

“Pretty much. She’s been there since early this morning, just patiently waiting for someone to come out to meet her,” Montehugh explains.

“So just to clarify, this isn’t like what happened with Angelo?” you question.

“No, she has come here peacefully though not many are enthused by her presence,” Kandomere says.

“You being there would make things go a lot smoother, otherwise those politicians aren’t gonna go anywhere near her,” Montehugh adds.

“And I’m sure we would all rather not test a dragon’s patience,” Kandomere continues.

“Alright, it’s not exactly how I wanted to spend my day, but I guess I don’t have much a choice,” you say grabbing your purse and slipping on your shoes.

You’re wearing a white midi dress with blue and pink flowers across it and a pair of lace-patterned flats. When you finish putting on your shoes and look up at the elf you see confliction in his face that mirrors the look you saw before with Angelo.

“I am sorry, Querida, were it up to me you would not be the one to do this,” Kandomere says.

You pause, there’s that word again.

Querida.

Does he really mean it?

It’s not just some word he’s throwing around, right?

You take a breath, “I suppose we shouldn’t keep her waiting. We have a job to do afterall.”

“I will be beside you the whole time,” Kandomere says softly taking your hand, “As will Montehugh.”

You nod and then follow them both out of your apartment and then down to the car. You nervously wring your hands together as you stare out your window and inch closer to the elven district. When you reach the block that houses one of the larger botanical gardens you step out of the car and stare up at the buildings surrounding it. There’s more than enough open air space for something as large as a dragon to fly down and land…somewhere…nearby.

You follow between Montehugh and Kandomere as they lead you towards the entrance where a number of other people are gathered. There are MTF agents of course decked out in full gear and in the middle of them is a human man in a suit, and three very old elves. The three of you approach them as they all seem in to be in a heated discussion.

“In my day there wouldn’t have been a meeting at all,” one of the elven men says.

“Agreed, as far as I’m concerned she’s complicit in her mate’s actions,” the other elven man wearing a bowtie says.

“That’s hardly fair, Frotovir, she could’ve just as easily been caught unawares as we were,” the elven woman says.

“Yes, I agree Moiranith, and isn’t that why we’re here to hear HER side of the story?” the human man asks, who now as you get closer, you recognize to be Mayor Mike Contreras.

And the elves are members of the city council.

“I thought we were here to hear her demands?” Frotovir asks.

“All I’m saying is we would have run BOTH of them OFF!” the first elven man says.

The Mayor seems exasperated with his counterpart, “Yes, well, Guthron, this isn’t back in the day, and in today’s world we try and hear everyone’s side and then decide on the information we’re given what to do next.”

“They have both been living here peacefully for years! We owe it to them to at least hear what they have to say for themselves for this betrayal,” Moiranith says.

Guthron seems disgruntled with the way the conversation is going, but Moiranith holds up her hand, “It seems we have company.”

The Mayor turns around and takes in your group, “Ah you must the Special Agent I was told about,” he says as he extends his hand to Kandomere.

“Yes,” Kandomere says and extends his own hand and shakes it firmly.

“Kannomire? Was it?” the Mayor asks.

Kandomere lifts his head slightly and then sighs, “Kandomere.”

“Ah yes, my apologies,” the Mayor says.

Some of the elves behind him roll their eyes.

The Mayor nods at Montehugh and then he stares at you curiously, “Are you an agent as well? You seem to be different…”

Kandomere steps forwards and puts a hand out in front of you, “This is an expert on dragons that we brought to…aid if necessary in the meeting with The Northern Light.”

He nods, “Very well then.”

You look at the elves past him and the elven woman and one of the elven men are looking at Kandomere askance like they don’t quite believe his explanation. You are at least a little relieved to know that the city’s leaders don’t know you’re a Bright.

“Now, that we’re all here we can begin,” Moiranith says.

Some of the MTF agents go first while the others hang behind he group forming the familiar pattern that Montehugh and Kandomere always do with you. You realize now that it’s a protective position and that they’ve been protective of you…this whole time.

Even though you’re a Bright.

You look to either side of you at the agents and notice that Kandomere has placed himself between you and the other elves. You then glance around you at the beautiful gardens, there are tall, green trees that are definitely not native to the region, colorful flowers in perfectly manicured rows, and you can hear birds singing as they dart between the trees above you. It’s gorgeous and oddly serene, considering you’re all moving towards a large, fire-breathing dragon. You had never really thought to come here before with all the times you’ve visited this district.

You wish the first time seeing it was under better circumstances.

All of you walk across a wooden bridge over a gentle stream and you can see koi fish swimming in the water beneath you. It’s a stark contrast to the rest of the city, but then again so is the rest of the elven district, this is just one of the only parts that embraces nature like what elves used to be known for.

Finally all of you exit the tree line and enter a golden field that sits at about knee height.

And that’s when you see her.

The Northern Light.

In the middle of the large field the dragon watches you all approach as she rests calmly with her forelimbs crossed over one another. Over the top half of her body are blue almost teal scales and her underside including her bottom jaw are covered in snowy, white scales. But the tops of her forelimbs, the edges of her wings, and the tip of her tail are a crimson red.

She leisurely reclines on the grass as she waits patiently for your group to come near, her wings calmly folded at her sides. Her ivory horns are long and twisted and they dip down and then arc back up at the points. The MTF agents spread out around her in a defensive position, but she pays them no heed. Her golden eyes are focused solely on the city’s leaders as they apprehensively close the distance.

Your group finally stops close enough that everyone doesn’t need to crane their necks directly upward to look at her. It’s this close that you realize something.

She’s the biggest dragon you’ve seen so far.

She’s at least twenty-five percent bigger than her mate, in fact.

She shifts and you can hear the movement of the scales from her body and the ground beneath her shift from her weight, “Thank you all for meeting me here. I know that you no longer fully trust me,” The Northern Light says.

“And why should we?!” Guthron demands.

“You think you can just barge in here unannounced?” Frotovir questions.

“What my compatriots here are trying to say is, it is too much to ask for our trust at this juncture,” the Mayor says.

“I am not asking for your trust, that is not why I am here,” she replies.

“Then why are you here? What is it you seek?” Moiranith asks.

“For us to come to an arrangement,” The Northern Light states.

“If that arrangement means you leave this region, then I think I can agree to that,” Guthron says.

“I will not abandon my unborn children,” the dragon responds.

“Then what will you do?” Frotovir asks.

“Please, The Northern Light has come here to talk civilly, and asking her to forgo her role as a mother is not very civil,” the Mayor remarks.

“Agreed,” Moiranith says, “And it’s barbaric.”

“Then she should take them with her!” Guthron continues, “The less dragons the better!”

“When did you lay them?” you ask suddenly.

Everyone seems startled to hear you speak and the dragon’s golden eyes shift to you, “Four months ago,” she replies.

You turn to the group who is now staring at you, “Dragon eggs need to be kept warm with their parents’ firebreath and after two months, obsidian formed at the base of the eggs has solidified them in place.”

You neglect to mention that there’s also diamond formed in the process.

“So she can’t move them?” the Mayor asks.

You nod, “It would kill them.”

The dragon’s golden eyes regard you for a moment and then her eyes slowly shift back to the others. You exhale quietly, and feel Kandomere’s arm press against your left arm. You go to move your arm away from his, but he follows you and presses his arm firmer against yours. You turn your head to the left towards the Mayor who is now focused on the dragon again and your eyes shift to the blue-haired elf beside you. He has his hands in his pockets and he’s not looking at you, but you realize that he’s trying to comfort you.

It’s the only gesture he can offer under the circumstances and you lean into him.

“What sort of arrangement did you have in mind?” Moiranith asks, “What is it that you have come here to ask of us?”

“My mate and I have not been able to hunt in a week. My children require constant heat now, as has been stated,” her head turns to you slightly, “Heat that cannot be given if my mate and I are starving. One of us must hunt in the sea, so I ask that you let it be me,” she finishes turning her head back to them.

“Where is your mate? Hmm? Why are we not speaking to him instead?” Guthron asks.

“He is in our nest, our home, tending to our children,” The Northern Light says.

“A little role reversal then?” the Mayor asks.

The Northern Light pauses, “No?”

She seems confused by his words and you wonder if you should tell him that both dragon parents take turns raising the children and protecting their territory.

“I…nevermind,” the Mayor says.

“We do not want you near the city,” Frotovir says.

“I’m not asking to go near the city, I can go around it. It will take more time,” she says glancing to the side, “But it can be done.”

“And what about the lives that were lost?” Moiranith questions, “What do you have to say for Angelo’s actions.”

The Northern Light blinks and you recognize the look in her eyes as the same Angelo had. She closes her eyes and dips her horned head for a moment and then raises it again, “There is nothing I can do to bring back the dead. And there are…no words that I could say to ease the broken hearts of their families.”

She takes a breath and everyone takes a step back instinctively except you and the two agents beside you.

“So you care nothing for the children that were slain?!” Guthron demands, “But then again I’m sure you with your happy family wouldn’t understand the loss of a child has on a parent.”

The dragon’s eyes start to cast a golden glow as her pupils shrink and you know that she’s really pissed. Because it’s more or less the same look Selina had sometimes.

“You think…that I don’t…know,” she begins with much restraint, “What it’s like to lose a child? You have no idea about my past. How hard I have worked to get to this point,” she pauses to exhale carefully, “HAVE YOU EVER LOST A CHILD?”

Guthron looks incredibly nervous, “I…no.”

“Because I have,” she says and she swallows, “I have had many infertile clutches, and when I finally did lay a clutch that was fertile? That was alive? They were taken from me,” she hisses her head drawing closer to him, “By a pack of wyverns…they tore them apart as they were hatching, they barely even had a chance to open their eyes. So do not pretend that you care about children, you old fool.”

The elven man swallows and the dragon’s head draws back and she closes her eyes and when she opens them there’s a slight bit of steam rising from her eyes. You give her a sympathetic look and there’s a slight shift of her eyes in your direction and then it immediately shifts back to the Council elves and the Mayor.

“I do extend my and my mate’s deepest regrets and sorrow,” the dragon says, “Which is why I wish to do something to help provide for the families.”

“Such as?” the Mayor prompts.

“Not to be rude, but what is it you could provide them? Words of comfort?” Moiranith asks.

“Our voices are the last they would wish to hear,” The Northern Light says, “No, I mean to give them gold. A small piece of our horde.”

Staring over at the politicians you watch them all glance between one another in a hushed excitement. Dragon gold is quite coveted and quite rare. And you can tell that it’s the best news they’ve heard all day.

“Well, I’m sure that it will more than cover the damages done to-“ Frotovir begins.

“It is NOT FOR YOU,” the dragon’s voice bellows and the elven man quiets.

“It is FOR the loved ones of those that died and the wounded who survived so that they may continue on without their future survival being threatened.”

“That’s very noble of you, but we have this thing called ‘taxes’ that have been around in this country for more than a couple hundred years. Living in your cave I’m sure you’re unfamiliar with it. And unfortunately there will be a great deal taken away from them by the government with how much gold is worth nowadays,” the Mayor says.

The Northern Light literally rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh her hot breath blowing past all of you, “Aren’t ‘taxes’ the very thing that made your country revolt against the last one? And just because I live in the mountains doesn’t mean I don’t know how things are run down here. What’s next? Are you going to explain to me how voting works? Or indoor plumbing? I am nearly six hundred years old I don’t need your ‘words of wisdom.’”

The mayor looks a little alarmed and flabbergasted and Moiranith sighs and steps forwards, “Then as one six hundred year old to another how do you plan to ensure they get all the treasure?”

“Is there not a law that was established during World War II where upon any dragon providing relief to any town or CITY may be tax free by the U.S. government?” The Northern Light questions.

The politicians all look at each other startled and Moiranith wrings her hands together, “She is correct, the gold is to go first to those most deeply affected and then to any reconstruction of buildings and infrastructure.”

“But it’s not World War II anymore!” Guthron protests.

“No, but it’s still on the books and has been utilized since, granted often in more rural communities but,” the Mayor says.

“But it is a federal law, one we must uphold,” Moiranith finishes.

The dragon nods.

The politicians all exchange a few glances they seem to be unhappy about not getting the gold and after a moment the Mayor steps towards the dragon.

“Alright we will allow you to drop off the gold, but I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we don’t want it to be inside the city,” the Mayor says.

“Fine, then outside of it,” the dragon sighs.

“And give the city a wide berth should you need to fly past it,” Frotovir adds.

“Of…course,” The Northern Light says reluctantly.

They all spend the next couple minutes working out the details on where the drop off should be. And Kandomere chimes in to reassure everyone that the MTF will handle it from there and even bring in an expert to properly determine the worth of the gold. When they all seem somewhat satisfied with their compromise the politicians are the first to leave the clearing with the armored MTF agents to escort them safely out.

And it leaves just the three of you alone with The Northern Light.

And her golden eyes shift from the edge of the clearing to you.

And only you.

“Come on-“ Montehugh begins.

“Wait,” she speaks softly.

And everyone stops and looks up at her.

“You’re the one aren’t you?” she asks, “The one who saved my mate?”

You nod silently.

“Thank you,” she says and her head moves forwards as she lowers her head almost to the ground in front of you, “Thank you for saving my mate and the father of my children, thank you for returning him to me.”

The two agents maintain their positions beside you, but you notice they glance between each other and then back at the dragon.

“He was fighting another dragon,” you begin, “Before…”

“Yes, I know. My mate and I can still smell him across our territory, but he is long gone,” The Northern Light says.

“Gone? Gone where?” you question.

“We suspect he fled to Europe,” she states.

Montehugh throws up a hand, “Of course where the fuck else would he go?!”

“Be careful, Little Ones,” she warns, “For we also believe him to be the Scourge of Europe and the slayer of The Everburning Emerald.”

Your vision shifts suddenly and you’re no longer surrounded by a golden field, but an emerald one. You begin to hear heavy footsteps and knowing what’s happening you try and focus your vision back to reality not enough to break it but just enough to…there!

You now have a sort of double-vision going on where you can see not only the dragon in front of you but also the field near the forest. The green dragon steps out into the meadow and then turns in your direction and as she opens her mouth to speak, you focus on her words.

And you repeat them.

Then the dragon flies off once more towards the mountain and the vision ends and this time you are jarred back to your senses and Kandomere grabs a hold of your arms and steadies you before you topple forwards. As you stare up at him you feel him brush the hair out of your face and you’re vaguely aware that he’s cupping your cheek.

“What?” you begin.

“I said are you alright?” he asks.

You stare into his silver eyes and focus on him to help ground you.

“I’m fine,” you manage quietly, as you now realize you’re in his arms.

“You don’t look fine,” he mutters and you notice how concerned the elf looks.

You turn your attention back to the dragon, “What did I just say?”

She’s staring intently at you and then her eyes shift to the side for a moment and then back to you, “If it is a new amulet you need then I will help you forge another. Then mayhaps together we can end his reign of terror.”

When she finishes speaking it instantly clicks in your brain that of course that’s what the dragon said!

“[A amulet,]” you whisper.

The spines on The Northern Light’s body puff out and she starts to say something to you in Draconic, but the only word you understand is the word “you.”

The dragon studies you for a moment, “I suppose not then.”

“What did you say?” you question.

“I asked you if you could understand me,” she says.

“I only understood the word ‘you,’” you say.

“This amulet wouldn’t happen to be The Amulet of the Dragon?” she asks.

You glance at the two agents and Kandomere nods and then you nod at the dragon.

“Oh dear, did you wear it?” The Northern Light questions.

“No, I only touched the lockbox holding it,” you state.

“Hm,” she muses, “It seems that was enough.”

You shake your head, “Enough for what? What’s happening to me?”

“The amulet has imprinted on you, it’s attempting to call you to it,” she explains.

“Imprinted?” you question.

“There are many different ways a magic item can belong to someone, are you familiar with them?” she asks.

“Uh…” you mutter trying to remember, “Binding spells are the most common, but they’re also only used for more powerful items. Then there’s ownership through forging an item, and also right of conquest where you kill the previous owner for it.”

“And a lesser known and often more rare way of claiming an item is by it ‘claiming’ you,” The Northern Light explains.

You ponder her words.

“It…WANTS me to use it?” you ask horrified.

She nods solemnly.

“Why?” you look to Kandomere and Montehugh whose faces are grim, “Why me?” you demand staring back at the dragon.

She sighs, “I don’t know…perhaps it has to do with who you are.”

“I…how do I MAKE IT STOP?!” you demand distraught.

Kandomere pulls your back to his chest and grips your upper arms firmly and leans down next to your ear, “Shh we’ll figure something out, you’ll be alright,” he soothes.

The Northern Light fixes you with a sympathetic look and raises her head, “I wish I knew more about the forging of the amulet.”

“Is there anything else you know? What was the name of that dragon again? The Scourge of Europe?” Montehugh questions.

“That was only one of his names, the name most knew him by was The Darkest Shadow,” The Northern Light says.

You blink and there’s an image of the grey and blue dragon soaring through the night sky as he banks back in your direction and swoops in low, and then there’s another image of him standing in front of you with houses set ablaze with blue flame. The dragon opens his mouth and more blue flame rises up from the back of his throat and illuminates a much smaller figure dressed in robes that swirl around them as the figure outstretches a hand. And in their hand you vaguely make out a small item as they thrust it outward and there’s a green flash of light…and you remember an image carved on the lockbox of a figure holding something out to…a dragon. Your mind rapidly fills with several other images none of which you can clearly make out and you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your head in your hands.

And then everything calms and you open your eyes.

You feel something holding you really tight against your midsection and look down to see the elf’s arms and turn your head to stare at him.

“It happened again,” you mutter weakly.

“What happened?” he asks shaking his head.

“Some sort of vision…” you answer.

Kandomere looks to Montehugh.

“We should get her outta here,” Montehugh says.

“I agree,” Kandomere says.

You stare up at the blue and white dragon and she tilts her head at you concerned, “I’m sorry I do not know more to help you.”

“It’s alright…” you mumble.

“Thank you for your help,” Kandomere says to The Northern Light and then he turns to you, “I think you need to rest.”

You nod and he adjusts his grip and loops your left arm around his waist and you lean heavily into his side.

“Goodbye, The Northern Light,” you say looking back at the dragon.

She smiles at you the corners of her mouth turning up, “Aurora.”

You smile back at her and the three of you begin to make your way to the edge of the clearing finally. As you walk leaning on the elf you reach your right hand out and run your hand along the golden grass and you realize that it’s not grass…it’s wheat.

                                                                      *******

Kandomere reaches the car and Montehugh climbs into the driver’s seat. The elf opens the back passenger door for the woman and she just stares at the car.

“Hey,” he says softly massaging her upper arm, “We’re going to get through this together.”

She nods slowly, “Okay.”

“I made a promise remember?” he asks.

She stares up at him and smiles at him gently, “I remember, Kandomere Dear.”

Her smile eases his heart a little.

He then lifts her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her delicate skin and there’s a light blush that colors her cheeks, one that increases as he then drags his lips lightly across her hand and towards her arm.

“Kandomere!” a voice calls.

Kandomere stops and presses one final kiss to her hand and then glances behind him at one of the Council elves approaching him and sighs softly.

“Wait in the car,” he says.

She stares at the older elf and then at Kandomere again.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Kandomere promises.

She nods and then climbs into the car and he shuts her door. Kandomere then straightens his jacket and strides over to meet the elf.

“Yes?” Kandomere inquires politely.

“Do you think the MTF is prepared should anything more happen with the dragons?” Frotovir asks.

“We are making preparations as we speak,” Kandomere states.

“Ah yes but what about-“ Frotovir begins.

“And we have help from the National Guard coming soon, so should if it come to that…we’ll be ready,” Kandomere continues.

“Good, good,” Frotovir mutters clasping his hands together.

Then the much older elf squints at Kandomere, “I notice you’re not wearing your gorget is there a reason for that?”

Right, he has met this particular elf on a couple of occasions prior to today.

Kandomere raises an eyebrow at him and he avoids looking back in the direction of the car. He can’t hear either of them breathing through the car doors, but he can hear Montehugh searching through the radio stations.

He smiles inwardly, but his face remains neutral.

“I thought it would be in poor taste to wear it,” Kandomere remarks.

“Ah yes, The Northern Light might not have appreciated it,” Frotovir says nodding to himself.

Kandomere isn’t sure whether or not he truly misunderstood him or deliberately is refusing to acknowledge it, especially considering the entire council had gorgets.

“Yes, she would not have appreciated it,” Kandomere says.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your work then, I’m sure there’s much to do,” Frotovir says and then he wanders off.

Kandomere shakes his head and then returns to the car.

They all wait until they hear the weight of something hitting the ground and feel the tremors shake the car. Fortunately this time the dragon is far enough away to avoid setting off the car alarms in their vicinity though he can hear some in the distance. After another moment he watches the primarily blue and white dragon quickly gaining altitude.

“Alright, we see her. Time to move out,” Montehugh says to the agent on the other end of the phone.

“I’ll mobilize the teams on my end,” Agent Murphy says.

Montehugh hangs up the phone and pulls the car out onto the road and heads back in the direction of the office. They mostly sit in silence with music playing quietly on the radio. Kandomere stares out the window and notices a large mural of Angelo painted over one of the buildings as they pass, but it seems it’s been added to recently…

“Kandomere?” she asks.

“Yes?” he responds.

“You speak Spanish, right?” she asks.

He inhales, “I do.”

“What does Ángel de la Muerte mean?” she asks.

“Angel of Death,” Kandomere answers.

The mural of Angelo has his eyes crossed out in red with the words spray-painted over the name “The L.A. Dragon.” And as they move further down the street there is similar graffiti written all along the walls written in English, Spanish, and Bodzvokhan. All of which call the dragon far worse things, but he refrains from repeating them in a lady’s presence. The elf turns in his seat and stares at her and he can tell that she’s still upset and she notices him staring and tries to compose herself.

Doesn’t she realize that she doesn’t need to pretend to be strong around him?

He’ll have to assure her that it’s okay to not be strong all the time.

He’ll have to assure her.

They make it back to the main building and Kandomere ushers her into his office and she sits down on the couch and wraps her arms around herself. Kandomere shuts his door and removes his coat and drapes it over her shoulders as he sits down next to her.

“What are we going to do?” she asks and tears begin to well up in her eyes.

“Shh,” he quiets as he places his hand on her right cheek and wraps his other around her and pulls her close.

“We’ll go talk to Saerthon, he’s our resident arcane researcher, it’s possible he knows more about what’s happening to you and how we can stop it,” he whispers.

A tear slips free from her eye and he thumbs it away.

She closes her eyes and then opens them again and takes a deep breath.

She looks exhausted.

She’s teetering just a little in fact.

He glances at his jacket, “You know I always keep some chocolate on hand.”

Her eyes light up and she digs through the inner jacket pockets until she finds the unopened chocolate bar and tears into it. She pops off a square and eats it and her body sags and she moans softly in delight.

Kandomere swallows the sound she made is…definitely doing it for him.

No, that’s hardly appropriate right now.

Especially seeing as she is in such dire straits.

She opens her eyes and breaks off a few squares and hands them to Kandomere.

“I think you need it more than me, Darling,” he says.

“I’m not going to eat the whole thing and it was yours to begin with,” she says.

Kandomere smiles and takes the chocolate and pops it into his mouth. The milk chocolate filled with caramel melts in his mouth and he hums in enjoyment. The woman stiffens in his arms and gives him a sidelong glance.

And then she leans into him.

He’s caught off guard for a moment and then he slowly rests his head against hers and they sit in relative silence as she munches on the chocolate.

He buries his nose in her hair and inhales her scent.

Nothing seems to have changed, but the amulet still has a hold on her or at least is attempting to. A worrying ache grips his heart and he inhales her scent again and her close proximity calms him somewhat.

Somewhat because he senses her worry as well, as it hangs over her like a cloud.

The door opens suddenly and Kandomere’s head snaps up and he sees Montehugh enter. He was so preoccupied with her, he hadn’t noticed the man’s heavy footsteps. His partner looks from Kandomere to the woman as she belatedly lifts her head to stare at Montehugh.

Montehugh raises an eyebrow at the elf, “We got a meeting in five minutes with one of the big bosses, he wants a rundown on what happened this morning with The Northern Light.”

Shit.

Of course.

He starts to stand up and then looks to the woman seated next to him, “Does she need to be there?”

Montehugh frowns, “Nobody said nothing about it so I would assume not.”

He releases her and stands up, “Just wait here, I’ll be back.”

She nods.

“It’s probably best she stays here anyhow,” Montehugh says quietly to the elf as Kandomere moves to join him.

“Hold up, Princess,” Montehugh says putting up a hand and Kandomere turns around and sees the woman standing up.

“Stay here,” Montehugh insists.

She looks back down at the couch and despite the fact she hardly moved from the couch she almost topples over when she tries to sit down again. Kandomere swiftly moves to her side and helps her sit down again.

“I think maybe I should get some rest…is it okay if-“ she begins.

“Of course. You can take a nap on the couch if you’d like. I’m going to lock the door when I leave so that no one will come in here and disturb you,” Kandomere says softly.

She smiles at him and he lifts one of her hands and presses a kiss to it. And then he stands up and leaves with Montehugh and locks the door behind him.

As they start to walk down the hall, “Hey, Boss, you wouldn’t mind taking a little detour for a minute? I need to talk to you real quick,” Ulysses says.

Kandomere follows him to his office and closes the door behind him. The office is smaller than the elf’s, but it’s still nicer than some of the other agents’.

“Yes, what is it?” Kandomere asks.

Montehugh holds up a finger, “First things first. There aren’t any of your pointy-eared friends around are there?”

Kandomere pauses to listen and then opens the door enough to look out and inhales and then closes the door, “No.”

“Good,” Montehugh says, “Now, I suggest if we want to keep her on,” Montehugh says quietly and jerks his head back in the direction of Kandomere’s office, “We don’t tell ‘em a fucking magic artifact is giving her visions.”

Kandomere takes a breath, “I agree.”

“Listen, I’ve seen enough of who she is as a person to know she’s not gonna turn out like all those other Brights we hunt down. She’s not a criminal. In fact she’s beyond good. Shit, she’s better than me.”

“I know. I can say the same. But they’re not going to believe that, not yet at least,” Kandomere says.

Montehugh’s brows furrow, “You got a plan? I was hoping you might have a plan.”

“The more she assists us with our cases the harder it will be to deny her virtue, and the closer we’ll get to finding that amulet,” Kandomere continues.

Montehugh nods, “You gonna talk to Saerthon later?”

“Yes,” Kandomere says, “Hopefully he’ll have something we can work with.”

“That elf runs a tight ship, he can be real weird at times, but I know he won’t say shit if you tell him not to,” Montehugh says.

Kandomere nods and pulls out his pocket watch and checks the time, “We best get going we don’t want to be late for our meeting.”

They both leave the office and step out into the hall.

                                                                      *******

You feel someone nudging you and you sit up and rub your eyes.

You stare at the pair of silver eyes in front of you and Kandomere smiles.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks softly as he smoothes your hair down.

You close your eyes and smile and then open your mouth in a yawn.

“Yes, actually it’s…peaceful here,” you say softly.

He smiles, “It’s what makes it so easy for me to do work,” he says and turns his head to stare at the mostly eaten candy bar, “I see you’ve eviscerated my chocolate bar.”

“I was trying to save you some,” you say.

“I gave it to you, it’s yours. You can have the rest of it if you want,” he insists.

“Well, if you insist then, I’ll just shove it into my purse for later,” you say.

He smiles wide and his fingers brush past your ear.

“It’s actually one of my favorite brands, but it’s only sold in the elven district,” you continue.

“I could get you some if you’d like?” Kandomere asks.

“I didn’t mean you should…you don’t have to,” you mutter.

“Are you kidding me? Montehugh pokes fun at my snobbish taste in chocolate. Despite the fact that, that’s not true I’ll eat anything chocolate. I just have my favorites,” Kandomere says, “I’m more than happy to buy chocolate for the one human who seems to share my taste.”

You smile at him, “Could…you maybe get more than one…”

“I’ll buy you an even dozen how does that sound?” he asks.

“An elf after my own heart,” you say softly.

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, “A lovely heart it would be to hold.”

You blush and glance down shyly.

He presses another kiss to your hand and then sighs, “I think it’s time we visit Saerthon. Are you up for it?”

Your smile fades, “Yeah,” you say and stand up.

You’re still wearing Kandomere’s jacket and it seems to have gotten quite wrinkled in your sleep and you’re worried the elf will be mad at you.

“Oh, um I’m sorry it’s all wrinkled,” you apologize.

He gives you a gentle smile, “It’s quite alright. It’s just a coat afterall.”

You stare at the elf, you don’t think you’ve ever seen an elf not be upset by minor inconveniences to clothing. Then again he deals with so much more serious matters on a regular enough basis that something like that wouldn’t hinder him. He loves to look good mind you, that is still very elf-like of him he’s just…a strange and…gentle elf.

He takes his coat from you and sets it down on the coffee table and ushers you out of his office. You take the elevator down and then walk across the familiar sidewalk path to the lab building. Kandomere opens the door for you and follows you inside and you continue forward down the hall.

You enter the lab with Kandomere, his hand on your lower back, “Saerthon?” Kandomere calls. Some of the assistants glance up at you, both curiously but when the Special Agent’s eyes sweep over them they go back to their work.

“Yes? What is it you require?” the older elf asks rounding a corner.

He stops short when he sees you.

Kandomere glances between the two of you and then stares back at Saerthon “We need to speak to you. In your office.”

The other elf nods and gestures for you to follow and you walk to an office not far from the main room and when you near the door you stop. Kandomere stops short with you and fixes you with a curious glance. Your gaze shifts slowly to a door at the end of the hall and you feel some kind of pull and find it difficult to tear your eyes away. It’s a familiar energy that’s thrumming…faintly.

Kandomere’s hand brushes against your cheek and you focus on him. There’s that worried crease in his brows and he thumbs your cheek gently. Your gaze shifts beyond the blue-haired elf and you realize Saerthon is staring at you as well.

“How ever did you know it was there?” Saerthon asks.

Realization dawns on Kandomere’s face and he glances between you and the door, “{That’s what we need to speak about,}” Kandomere says in hushed elvish.

Saerthon’s brows crease and he opens his office door and turns on the light.

Kandomere pulls out your chair for you and you sit down and then he seats himself. Saerthon locks the door behind him and then rounds his desk, his office is much smaller than Kandomere’s but it is immaculate, everything is clean and organized. Including his more personal items he brought to decorate the glass shelves behind him, such as a stone chess set with pieces that reflect the nine races. With an elven king and queen, centaur knights, giants as rooks, human bishops, and a mix of brezzik, orcs and…the other’s are beyond your sight but you assume goblin, and ogres and the like are mixed into the pawn line. It’s a very elvish take on chess, but you glance at the other side and it seems to be mostly orcs and two elves serving as the king and queen.

The battle of the nine armies then.

You glance around at the other figurines on Saerthon’s shelves and they all seem to be historical recreations of armor and castles, there’s even well-worn books on history and magic which are understandable given his line of work.

Saerthon notices you staring and spins in his chair and glances up at his belongings, “I’m a bit of a history buff I find it’s important to learn as much as possible about our past to better understand and prepare for the future.”

You glance at his gorget, “Maybe you should try learning a little harder.”

He spins back around in his chair to face you and furrows his brows as he glances at his gorget.

“We’re here to discuss The Amulet of the Dragon,” Kandomere interrupts before you all get off track.

“Do you have any more information for me?” Saerthon asks folding his hands across his desk.

Kandomere’s eyes shift to you, “In a manner of speaking.”

Saerthon glances between the two of you slowly.

“In our meeting with The Northern Light earlier today….some new information was gleaned,” Kandomere continues.

The other elf leans forwards slightly his face becoming serious.

“It seems the amulet has imprinted on her,” Kandomere says and gestures to you.

The other elf’s eyes widen and he leans back, “Oh my this is very serious and potentially very dangerous for you most of all Ms.” he says gesturing to you.

“Aurora told me what she knew about ‘imprinting’ she said it wants me to wield it,” you say.

His brows raise, “Yes, and now it makes sense how you knew where we’re keeping the key. You have a connection to it, one that is getting stronger. When did you first notice anything strange?”

“When I picked up the lockbox,” you answer.

His eyebrows raise higher on his head, almost to his hairline, “You picked…it up?” he shakes his head, “You shouldn’t just touch random magical artifacts-“

“I didn’t even know what it was! Selina wouldn’t tell me anything about it!” you shout.

Kandomere holds out a hand to you both and then glances behind him at the door, “Keep the volume to a minimum both of you if you wish this conversation to remain private,” he warns.

You’re still mad and Kandomere gently grips your upper arm and kneads it and you settle back into your seat. His hand trails down your arm to your right hand and he holds your hand in his.

“She’s been having visions: one when she initially touched the lockbox and two more when she was talking with The Northern Light,” Kandomere explains.

“Was the dragon’s mere presence enough for this vision? Saerthon asks calmly.

“No. She said a name, two names actually, The Everburning Emerald and The Darkest Shadow,” you say.

Saerthon’s face goes even paler, “I cannot say I recognize the first, but I do…very much recognize the second,” he takes a breath, “He is a very vile dragon that was quite infamous in Europe for burning villages to the ground some several hundred years ago.”

“She also said that he slayed The Everburning Emerald,” you add.

“That’s not surprising that name sounds like a dragon’s name, and he killed quite a number of them as well in his rampage,” Saerthon continues, “I imagine this dragon he-“

“She,” you interrupt.

He pauses, “She?”

“She was a female dragon I know from my vision,” you explain.

“What did she do in this vision?” Saerthon inquires.

“Um…she stepped out of this forest into a field and looked in my direction…it wasn’t at me specifically and then she said, ‘[If it is a new amulet you need then I will help you forge another. Then mayhaps together we can end his reign of terror,]’” you say.

Kandomere’s hand clenches yours a little tightly and you stare at him, he seems very worried. Saerthon is also staring at you, but he seems confused.

He purses his lips, “Might I ask what language you think you just spoke?”

You knit your brows together, “English?”

He shakes his head and stands up and removes a book from one of his shelves and starts flipping through it. You glance at Kandomere and when his eyes meet yours it confirms your suspicions, “I did it again didn’t I?”

He nods.

You take a shaky breath and Kandomere takes your hand in both of his now and strokes your hand gently.

Saerthon finds the page he’s looking for and sets the book down on his desk in front of you, “Do you recognize any of these runes?” he questions.

You stare at them and shake your head and then you pause…and tap one of the pictures of a single rune.

The elf leans forwards and examines it, “The Draconic word for ‘new’ or ‘renewal’ as it’s often used,” he states.

You nod, “[Renewal.]”

Kandomere shifts in his seat and you glance at him and then back at Saerthon.

“How is it you know this word?” Saerthon asks.

“I learned it when Aurora translated it for me,” you say.

“So it is not instant recognition? That’s good, it’s not as far along as I feared,” Saerthon says.

“What do you mean ‘far along’ it’s going to get worse?” Kandomere demands.

“Yes, actually. Until we can severe the connection somehow it’s going to keep happening,” Saerthon says.

“Is there anything I can do to stop it?” you ask.

Saerthon picks up the book and sets it back up on the shelf, “I’m afraid, I don’t know. Since I don’t know the why? Of how the connection was formed I cannot give you specifics.”

“I wasn’t the only one to touch it though so why me?” you ask.

Saerthon glances back at you, “Who else touched it?”

“The elf with silver hair,” you say.

“Hm if it’s nature is predatory it could be it saw you as an easier target? But that doesn’t sound quite right it should have ignored you after enough time had passed. No, there’s something it wants from you specifically,” Saerthon says.

“Like what?” you ask.

He puts up a hand, “Again I’m at a loss as to what that might be.”

“Is there anything else you know of the amulet’s history that might could help us?” Kandomere asks.

“It was made by a human man sometime in the 14thcentury, he was a simple potterer and artisan who doubled as his village’s resident wizard. There are some who deny that it was made by him, but that ledger you brought me is the most damning evidence I’ve seen,” Saerthon explains.

Kandomere looks to you and studies you, “Did you see anything that time?”

You shake your head.

Kandomere then turns back to Saerthon, “There isn’t anything else?” he questions a little exasperated.

“My interest and study in the story is a hobby of mine and I never imagined that it would be touched upon at all in my professional life. But I do have a few people in mind I could contact for more information and I will find someone who does know,” Saerthon continues.

You sigh and glance down at the cardboard box on his table and peer inside.

It’s filled with your Aunt’s figurines.

“Ah, yes, those,” Saerthon says noticing, “I’ve already examined them and found them to be ordinary so I’m carefully packing them in this box so they won’t break.”

“I could’ve told you that,” you say and pick up one of the unicorns not meticulously wrapped in bubble wrap.

“Yes, well I did want to ask you a few questions to make this process go smoother, but I understand that it is upsetting,” Saerthon says.

You stare at the rearing unicorn with their head dipped in a fighting stance, “Maybe there’s someone else we could still ask who might know,” you say glancing to Kandomere.

He inhales, “Saerthon, if you would.”

You furrow your brows and glance at the other elf as he takes a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocks a drawer in his desk and then pulls out a familiar purple-hearted wood, rectangular box.

Selina had this box specifically made for transporting her unicorn-haired brush.

He unlocks this box as well with a small, golden key and opens it and turns it to face you. You reach out and lift the brush out of the box and set it in your lap. Kandomere still has your right hand in both of his, and you turn the brush over to stare at the carving on the handle of a unicorn peeking out from behind some trees and you speak her name…

“Lady of the Wood, the Moonlight that Shines Through the Trees…” you whisper.

You close your eyes and you’re staring into a small stream illuminated by the moonlight. You turn your head to the right and see the unicorn who appears to be gleaming with silver-white light under the moon. Her head lifts up as she stops drinking from the stream and she stares at you.

You dip your head, “I apologize if I’m interrupting I-“ you begin.

“You seek my wisdom?” she asks interrupting you.

You lift your head and stare at her and nod.

Her eyes study you for a moment and then she lifts her horned head, “Something has happened. Something has changed.”

“Yes, I…” you pause and take a breath and the unicorn’s ear flick towards you and she lifts her head slightly, “There’s this amulet called The Amulet of the Dragon and apparently it has…’imprinted’ on me,” you explain.

Her head lifts up and her neck moves back as she inhales and then she stares at the ground, “Yes, that sounds problematic.”

“Can…can you help me?” you ask.

“From this distance? No,” she says fixing her gray eyes on you.

Your shoulders slump, so you’re doomed then.

“But,” she continues, “Were you to find this amulet and bring it with you here to my forest, I could sever the bond it has forged with you,” she finishes with a thrust of her horn.

Your eyes widen, “You can do that?”

She nods, “Of course, but both you and the amulet must be here,” she says with a stomp of her split hoof.

This is the best news you’ve heard all day.

“But how do I find the amulet?” you ask.

She tilts her head at you, “The bond is not strong enough then to sense it?”

“No,” you answer with a shake of your head.

“In your hunt for it, it will get stronger as will the pull to it,” she explains.

Then she stares at you for another moment, “Yes…not strong enough yet. It was not awakened before.”

You furrow your brows.

“When you find it. Do not use it. No matter the temptation,” she states.

You nod and then you pause and the unicorn tilts her head at you again, “Do you know anything about The Everburning Emerald and The Darkest Shadow?”

The unicorn stares at you and then lifts her head and stares up at the night sky. You follow her gaze and you can see the stars, something you sorely miss living in the city.

“I am from the earth and dragons are from the sky, I have heard stories of the ones you speak of, but I do not know them myself,” she says and her head lowers to stare at you, “I know only my forest and those who enter it and the stories they bring me. But what I do know is that the shadow of which you speak is a monster who enjoys the destruction and chaos he causes. But he is also a prideful creature one who does not enjoy being bested or escaped,” she finishes as she steps forwards, “Be careful, he’s seen your face.”

You nod and both your hands clench around the brush you’re holding and then you feel a hand grip yours and you relax. You look down at your hands and you can’t see his hands at the moment, but you can still feel Kandomere near you. The unicorn stares at your hands and then stares at the empty space beside you where Kandomere is seated.

“It seems you will not be alone in this endeavor,” she states, “Good…I sense the elf will aid you, “ she adds softly.

The unicorn stares at the empty space beside you and then slowly turns back to you, “How interesting….yes, something has changed.”

You stare at her confused and then focus on the feeling of Kandomere’s hands overtop yours, they’re strong and steadying.

“Thank you for your help,” you say with a dip of your head.

She repeats the gesture, “Hopefully our next conversation will be under better circumstances, Little One.”

You smile and then open your eyes and you’re back in Saerthon’s office.

You turn to stare at Kandomere and he fixes you with that worried look of his.

“She said that she could break the bond the amulet has on me if we find it and bring it to her,” you explain.

“Well, that’s good news,” Kandomere says with a little relief.

“Yes, but she’s all the way in France, yes?” Saerthon asks.

“Yes,” you answer.

Kandomere grumbles and his shoulders get tense again, “It would take considerable effort to convince anyone to ship such a dangerous artifact overseas to another country.”

“I…also have to go with it,” you add.

Kandomere looks at you and knits his brows together.

“It won’t work otherwise,” you state.

“They’ll definitely not agree,” Saerthon says.

Kandomere looks to the other elf and sighs, “There has to be something.”

Saerthon tilts his head to the side, “The amulet IS from Europe perhaps that is how we get our foot in the door? Convince them it needs to go home?”

“They wouldn’t ship it directly to France is the problem,” Kandomere says and then he stares at you again, “Unless bad weather redirected them?”

You get what Kandomere is implying and nod.

“We can work on an argument and a plan of action, but we still need to find the amulet before it disappears again for another several hundred years,” Saerthon says as he outstretches a hand to you.

You instinctively pull out of Kandomere’s hands and hold the brush to your chest.

“Not to worry you’ll be reunited soon enough, and until then she’ll be safe in here,��� Saerthon assures you.

You reluctantly set the brush back in the box and then stand and Kandomere stands as well and follows you out of the room. You walk back to the main room and spot your Aunt’s books in stacks and then you see a familiar pink cover and stop. Kandomere stops beside you and stares down at you, “What?”

He follows your gaze to the stack of books and sighs, “We’re still going through the spellbooks-”

“These aren’t spellbooks,” you interrupt spinning to face him.

You then step forward out of the elf’s grasp and pick the book out of the stack, “It’s just a regular book, that I wanted to reread,” you explain.

Kandomere closes the distance and extends a hand and you give him the book and he flips through it briefly to verify.

“Those are just the regular books from the half-elf’s collection,” a feminine voice says.

You turn to see an elven woman with lavender hair wearing a yellow dress and holding a clipboard.

“I know, I recognize them,” you reply.

Kandomere hands you the book back and his hand finds your lower back as he stares at the elven woman. You glance at her and then glance at Kandomere and he seems to have gotten very tense all of a sudden.

Wait, they’re not exes are they?

She is very pretty and you can hardly compare to any elven woman.

Your heart sinks a little.

“I’ve already cleared them and set them aside,” the elven woman continues.

You stare at the stack and then up at Kandomere, “Can I take a couple home with me?”

He turns his attention back to you and his brows furrow, “Well, they do belong to you...” he trails off, “Saerthon,” Kandomere calls and turns to the older elf who just entered the room.

“Hm?” Saerthon responds.

“Would it be alright if she took a couple books home with her?” Kandomere asks.

Saerthon furrows his brows as well and steps towards the stack you’re standing next to, “From here?”

“Yes,” you reply.

“Oh of course, it’s fine,” he says with a wave of his hand, “Our Specialist has already cleared that stack.”

You pull out an old fairytale book from the stack too and set it on top of “A Moonlit Courtship” and nod at Kandomere.

“I do need you to sign for it,” Saerthon says after grabbing some paper and a pen from nearby and pinning it to his clipboard, “Just don’t put the date down or anything, we’ll put that in later after you’ve spoken with the lawyer about the half-elf’s estate.”

“Wait, so you’re the one…” the Specialist begins, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You stare at her and there’s a sincerity in her eyes and you nod, “Thank you.”

You sign your name and Kandomere nudges your back gently and he escorts you out of the building and across the sidewalk back to the office. And while you’re walking across the grass, “So…is she your ex or something?” you ask.

Kandomere bristles, “WHAT?! NO!”

“Oh,” you reply quietly.

“Why did you think that?” he questions.

“I don’t know things just seemed tense between you two is all,” you say.

Kandomere grumbles and stares forwards, “I’ve only met her the other day when she asked me out.”

“She asked you out!” you exclaim.

“Yes, why do you care?” Kandomere asks stopping in his tracks.

Why do you?

“Because…we pretended to be a couple and if you were already dating someone…” you offer as your only explanation.

Kandomere shakes his head, “We’re not dating. I declined her offer.”

You relax a little.

He then takes your hands in his, “I would not do something so dishonorable. It hurts my heart that you think I would, Querida.”

You glance down, “Well, I’m glad you’re single then.”

You stare back at him and he’s giving you a weird look, “Not that being single is bad, I mean I’m single, I mean…”

Kandomere chuckles and then lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, “I’m glad we’re both single then,” he says in a low voice.

You stare up at him as you feel your cheeks flush, he’s so handsome and he’s…your eyes drift down to his neck.

Not wearing his gorget.

“We should…get back to work, yes?” you ask.

He nods and lets go of your hand only to gently touch the small of your back and you feel a tingling run up your spine. You smile at him as you both walk back to the office and you feel his thumb lightly stroking your back and your heart flutters a little.

                                                                      *******

At the end of the day the elf insists on taking you home and you follow him out to the parking lot and you make note of the car he approaches.

It’s a four-door Mercedes Coupe, in a beautiful shade of blue.

He unlocks the car and opens your door for you and you seat yourself, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to,” he says and closes your door.

He steps around to the driver’s side and gets in.

The interior of the car is incredibly sleek and modern.

Fitting for the elf.

He starts the car and seems to notice you staring, “Admiring my car?”

“It’s nice, just not as expensive as some of the other cars I’ve seen elves drive,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow at you.

Your eyes widen, you hadn’t meant that to be a backhanded compliment.

“Uh, I like the color,” you say.

He huffs as he backs out of the parking space, “Well, when you’ve lost fours cars in two years, you tend not to buy the most expensive ones anymore. Also blue is my favorite color.”

“FOUR CARS?!” you exclaim, “What did on Earth did you do to them?”

“What? You think that elf lady is the only person who’s ever tried to kill me?” he questions.

You stare at him in horror, “Kandomere, I’m very concerned.”

“Didn’t you lose a car as well?” he asks.

“I…that was different!” you argue.

“How so?” he asks raising an eyebrow, but focusing on the road.

You sit in silence for a moment and stare forward, “Okay so maybe it’s not different.”

He hums in response.

“Your favorite color is blue?” you ask.

“Yes, why?” he asks sparing you a brief glance.

“No reason,” you lie, “It’s a nice color.”

You continue the drive in relative silence, but when you make it to your street, you’re thankful that you didn’t get hit by a truck this time.

Kandomere parks on the street and gets out with you, “I’m going to walk you up, make sure everything’s clear.”

You smile and then you stare at his very expensive car and then out at the darkened street. This IS a gang neighborhood, and the elf’s car is too tempting a target.

“You can’t just leave your car here,” you say.

“Why not?” Kandomere asks.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Because it won’t be here when you get back.”

The elf frowns and stares at his car.

“Look, just let me cast an illusion spell on it,” you whisper stepping towards him.

He nods, “Very well.”

You place a hand on the car, “No matter how those with ill will feel, When they look upon this car there will be no appeal,” you whisper.

Light collects on the car and there’s a flash and instead of an overly expensive car, it now looks like the cheapest and oldest car on this block. You head up to your apartment with the elf in tow and unlock your door and then lock it behind you both. You turn to him and he steps towards you and takes your hands in his and holds them up massaging them gently, “How are you doing? Are you alright?” he asks softly.

You look up at him and shake your head, “No, I’m not. I’m not alright.”

“Come here,” Kandomere says and he wraps his arms around you and hugs you.

Maneuvering your arms around his waist you hug him back and close your eyes as he holds you for a while, as you allow him to comfort you.

And his presence is a comforting one.

You’re finding you’re less and less afraid of him the more time you spend with him.

You lift your head off his chest and he loosens his grip.

“Would you like me to stay awhile?” he asks.

You nod, “If you wouldn’t mind?”

You look up at him and he smiles gently at you, “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

He takes you by the hand and leads you over to the couch and sits down. You sit down next to him and he removes his jacket and sets it on the table and you slip off your shoes and set your purse on the table as well. He leans back and wraps an arm around you and you move closer to him, resting your head on his left shoulder. Pulling your feet up you and placing your left hand across his chest, you curl up next to the elf and he rests his head against yours. You sit there in silence for a while, his fingers tracing themselves along the exposed skin of your upper arm. Your eyes start to slip closed as you begin to drift towards sleep.

“Can I turn on the tv?” Kandomere asks startling you back awake.

“Huh? Oh, sure,” you mumble.

He leans forwards and grabs the remote and turns on the tv and begins searching through the channels until he finds the history channel. You stare at the tv as a program about magic comes on and then slowly turn your head towards Kandomere.

He meets your gaze, “What?”

“Really?” you ask.

“I like to watch these sometimes, because I find it funny,” he says.

Your brows furrow at him, “How is it funny?”

“Well, when you work with actual magic on a day to day basis it’s hilarious to watch how wrong they get it on these shows,” Kandomere explains.

You turn your attention back to the tv and after about ten minutes of watching it in silence, “What?! That’s not what that’s supposed to look like!”

Kandomere chuckles.

You look at him and wave a hand at the tv, “Those runes are all wrong! I guarantee you it’ll backfire and blow up in your face if you so much as try to activate it!” you exclaim.

Kandomere huffs quietly and wraps his arm tighter around you and holds you close to him and you settle back into your seat.

You watch the tv angrily, “I don’t see how you think this is funny.”

“It’s funny to watch your face,” Kandomere remarks.

You turn on him, “Is that why you turned it on?!”

“No, that is,” he says and points at the tv.

You glance back at the tv and try to hold back your laughter as you see a group of actors in robes wander around in a circle chanting literal nonsense waving sticks in a field.

“Oh my God what are they even supposed to be doing?” you ask stifling back a laugh.

You look to Kandomere and he makes a stern face, “Summoning the dead,” and then the corner of his mouth lifts up slightly. Now you burst out laughing and Kandomere chuckles along with you. You settle your head back against Kandomere’s shoulder and continue to watch the very bad documentary.

“I think that’s stock footage,” Kandomere says.

“Yeah, I think you’re right I’ve seen it used in a lot of other things,” you say.

After a while you start to drift off again when a sound from the tv jolts you awake. Kandomere must have fallen asleep before you, because he also startles at the sound and swiftly grabs the remote and mutes the tv. You stare at the tv as a program about dragons comes on and the elf quickly changes the channel. Kandomere leans back against the couch, “I think that’s enough dragons for one day.”

You nod and then move to rest your head under his chin, your left hand moving across his chest and now fiddling with his tie. Kandomere rests his chin on the top of your head and wraps his other arm around you and then trails his fingers lightly across your arm. And you both sit in silence for a few moments.

“It’s not coming back,” he says quietly.

You stop fiddling with his tie where his gorget once was.

You pull away from him slowly and prop yourself up against him and stare at him.

“You promise?” you ask, smoothing your hand over his torso.

“I do,” he says, his face serious.

You glance to the side and take a breath and then settle yourself against the elf again, “I don’t want to ever see it again, understand?”

“I understand, Querida,” he says.

Your eyes widen slightly and you pull back and stare at him, “Why do you call me that?”

He stares at you and blinks and then wets his lips.

“Why do you call me Dear?” you ask.

You feel his fingers trail up your arm and to your face where he thumbs your cheek.

“I don’t know,” he answers.

And you can tell from his contemplative expression, he’s telling the truth.

“Perhaps, you just look like one to me,” he says with a small smile.

It’s not a very satisfactory answer, “But why?” you ask more insistently.

“I am hardly the first person to call you Dear,” Kandomere says.

“I suppose,” you mutter.

That is true, even Banathar referred to you as such.

“To be fair you called me Dear first,” Kandomere continues.

You furrow your brows again, “Is this that phone call that I don’t remember?”

“Yes,” he huffs, “And in that phone call you called me Kandomere Dear.”

You have…actually called him that since then.

“I mean…it rhymes and you know how much I like rhymes,” you counter.

He smiles a toothy grin and you find you like the way his face softens and the warmth in his eyes.

“I do, you’ve saved my life with some of those rhymes,” Kandomere says.

“Twice,” you say.

“Twice,” he agrees.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

“Stop what?” you ask confused.

“Do you want me to stop calling you Querida?” he asks softly.

You stare at him and lean into his touch as he continues his gentle touches and you close your eyes, “No,” you say softly.

There’s silence for a moment and then you open your eyes and let out a small yawn.

Kandomere lets out a little huff, “It seems I’m keeping you from such much needed rest.”

He sits up and you untangle yourself from him and then stand up.

The elf stands and checks his pocket watch, “It is getting late.”

“Who are they?” you ask suddenly.

“Hm?” he hums and then he glances at the picture in the pocket watch you’re pointing to, “Oh, Mi Familia, this is my mother and my three older sisters, with Maretha being the eldest, and Aranea and Cirinea being twins, and this is me.”

“I didn’t know you had siblings,” you say smiling at him.

He looks to you with a smile on his own face, “Yes, and you have a sibling as well.”

“I’m not surprised that you know that, but yes I have an older sister,” you say and then you stare at the photo and frown, “Where’s your dad?”

You glance back at Kandomere and his face darkens.

“Oh he’s not….dead is he?” you ask worriedly.

Kandomere closes the pocket watch and stuffs it back in his vest, “He’s dead to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mutter.

He shakes his head and stares at you, “Don’t be. He’s not a good man.”

He starts to move towards the door and you follow and then he turns to you and his hand finds your cheek. You smile and close your eyes and then open them again to find him return your smile. You tentatively reach your hand toward his face and brush your fingers against his cheek and as you start to move for his ear…his hand catches yours and he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm. You stare at him transfixed as he presses a couple more kisses to your skin and he meets your eyes again. His silver eyes regard you warmly and you stare back at him silently.

Have his eyes always been this gorgeous? Even the slightest movement of his lids as he glances down and then back up at you is breathtaking.

You realize you’ve been staring a little too long when he says, “Goodnight.”

You also realize that you had leaned towards him, “Goodnight,” you whisper pulling back, “My brave, gentle elf,” you add.

His eyebrows raise slightly as there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, “Brave, gentle elf?”

“Well yeah, that’s who you are to me,” you say.

He smiles and gives a small nod, “It is an honor to be known as such. Querida,” he says and takes your hand and presses another kiss to your knuckles and you can’t help but smile again.

“Goodnight," you repeat.

“Goodnight,” he repeats.

And then he walks out of your apartment.

You lock the door behind him and press on it to make sure it’s shut and then look at your hand. You press it to your face and sigh and then smiling to yourself, you tuck your hair behind your ear and finally go change out of your work clothes. You then turn off the tv and curl up on the couch with the book “A Moonlit Courtship” and re-read some of your favorite parts, before you inevitably fall asleep.

                                                                      *******

Kandomere sets his keys in the bowl next to the door and shuts it and locks it. He sighs and shrugs out of his jacket and heads for his bedroom. He sets it across his dresser and then loosens his tie and removes his gun and sets it in it’s proper place. He then removes his shoes, socks, and vest and wanders back through his apartment and into the kitchen.

It’s starting to get late and he doesn’t feel like cooking anything tonight.

Kandomere looks through his fridge at what he has leftover and sees there’s still some soup left.

Perfect.

He takes it out sets it in a pot and turns the stove on.

Bored, he meanders around his apartment for a bit. He wanders out into his living room and spots his plants near the window. Stepping over to them he checks to see how they’re doing. The rosemary and thyme seem to be doing well.

Hmm, the basil might need to be repotted it’s getting too big for the one he put it in.

He takes a long inhale enjoying the fresh scent the plants provide and then wanders back out of the living room.

He paces around with his hands in his pockets.

Kandomere lives alone of course.

He’s lived alone for quite some time, he doesn’t mind it’s just sometimes it can get...well lonely.

He stops and stares into his empty bedroom at his bed.

It has been quite some time since he’s had a girlfriend live with him.

Elves are all well off enough that they don’t need to live with each other and as such it was rather difficult each time to convince a girlfriend of his to live with him. Elven women don’t generally need to be taken care of either, unless it’s sexually of course.

He can more than provide that.

Only problem is too many didn’t value him for anything more than that even if they were dating him. And as such it’s been a little more than a decade since he has shared his bed with anyone. He wonders if humans have similar problems when it comes to their love life.

Perhaps he should ask his Bright?

Montehugh’s been married for a long time and hasn’t needed to deal with the bachelor life and voices that he very much prefers not to go back to it. He could ask her…though the question may seem out of the blue.

There’s suddenly an image of her from earlier curled up on his couch in his office and he imagines her in his bed, waking up because he came home late and having a worried look on her face. And he would crawl into bed next to her and hold her to reassure her that everything was alright...

He shakes his head and turns to stare into his home office.

He remembers suddenly that book that she’d wanted to read “A Moonlit Courtship”

was it?

He steps into his office and sits down at his desk and starts typing the name into the search bar on his computer.

There’s…two different versions?

He opens a tab for each of them and reads through them, one seems to be in English and the other in Övüsi. He scrolls down on the blue and silver embossed version and reads an overview of the book. He knew it was a romance novel, but the romance is between an elven man and a…human woman.

This is a rare find.

Elves quite loathe these types of books, they hate anything that encourages elves to seek romantic partners outside of their race. He reads through more about the book it was written by an elven man…and it’s…nonfiction…

Kandomere removes his hand from his face and sits up, it’s the story of how he met his wife. He hears the soup boiling and he quickly rushes back to the kitchen to turn off the stove. He removes the pot and sets it aside and covers it with a lid and then returns to his office. He checks the pink non-elvish version of the book…it’s her perspective on how she met her elven husband. He then starts to do a little research on the authors of the book. They had decided to write down their love story to encourage others that love can be found anywhere you just have to open your heart to it.

Kandomere smiles as he reads up on the couple’s life.

They were so happy together.

Inevitably though his human wife did die first of old age, but the elf never loved anyone else nor anyone more than her and never remarried and was buried next to her when he inevitably also died. Though he did die much sooner than he should have for an elf, perhaps it was a broken heart.

The couple had tried to have children, but had lost more than a couple in childbirth and early infancy, and as such only had each other.

That hurts his heart, as someone who wants children of his own, to be unable to have them would be heartbreaking. It would not be reason enough to find someone else, no, he would love her too much to abandon her.

And what if he was the problem?

He would not want her to abandon him either.

He wants to read this book, he decides.

Yes, but it is more than a couple hundred years old it might be difficult to….nevermind there it is.

There’s an old bookshop nearby that has one in stock.

Ugh, it’s not available to order online though, it’s just a list of the items they have in stock on a web layout he has not seen in a while. He’s not opposed to doing things the old-fashioned way, though it does take time out of his busy schedule.

He looks up the number for the shop and calls it.

“Yes, hello?” a raspy feminine voice says.

“Hello, I was wondering if I could reserve a copy of ‘A Moonlit Courtship?’” he asks.

There’s some grumbling on the other end, “Hold on one moment let me check to see if we have it.”

Kandomere saw that it says it’s in stock on the website, he hopes it’s still there and not false hope.

There’s some sounds of rifling and then, “The only one we have is in elvish,” she says uncertain.

“Yes, that’s perfect! Could you hold it for me? I’ll be by tomorrow to pick it up,” he says.

“Sure, what’s your name so I can write it down?” she asks.

“Kandomere,” he answers.

There’s a pause on the other end, “…Kandomere?”

“Yes…” he replies tentatively.

Oh no, is she not going to let him have the book?

She sighs, “Alright, Kandomere, I’ll have it set aside for you.”

“Thank you, goodbye,” he says with relief.

“Mmhm, bye,” she mutters and hangs up the phone.

He’s excited, he can’t wait to read it!

He closes out his tabs and makes a note on both his desk and in his calendar to go pick up the book after work tomorrow. And then he goes and fixes himself a bowl of soup and watches tv. And he finds he misses having her here to watch it with him.