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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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14. A Shot in the Dark Part 2

Upfront: It has been a long time since I’ve known somebody who got shot (well enough) to have the exact parameters of how the hospital etiquette is, so I’m basically going to tap into the last time, and since that was about a decade ago and also in my hometown, Idk how far off the way that they handle it is. I’ll try to fill in the spaces with how not as close associates have portrayed their experiences with similar crises and maybe pepper in a little imagination for flow of story. But, the main takeaway is that the chapter has a heavy police presence and I know that can be extremely difficult to digest for people.

He had been crying for most of the night. He wasn’t that adverse to crying. Physically, it was a good release for emotions that the brain was trying to process. He did wish that he could stop for longer than fifteen minutes here and there, but there was too much happening in his heart and mind. It had been two hours. The police had talked to him, then he had to wait for detectives, and they were a “good cop, bad cop” team that he would have expected only in a fictional work, and that was fitting, since none of this felt real.

The way that Grace’s body shivered in his arms, then just… stopped moving. The way that she wasn’t breathing and he was too scared to let go of her wound to try to administer CPR… The way that he was convinced that he was watching the love of his life die in his arms and the fact that she had been in surgery for two hours and nobody but police and detectives would speak to him about anything, yet, nobody would try to contact her family, despite him repeating to them that she was Ambassador Monroe’s daughter…

3:48 am - At least they had contacted Sunetra. Apparently, she was Grace St. Catherine’s listed emergency contact. She and Xander showed up about an hour after Simon had been sitting there, with the police. Whenever they came in, both of them noticed him and he could see that Xander looked equal amounts of confused, angry, and scared. Sunny was less readable, only seeming to be curious, but rushed over to him, while the police tried to intercept her. “What happened?” she asked, over their shoulders.

Simon stared at her, glanced at Xander, and even though everything in him wanted to say, “You left her to fucking die is what happened!” Instead, he said very softly, “Grace and I were on a date and she got shot…” Sunny had an emotional response. She began to let tears fall from her eyes, though the rest of her was unresponsive as the police gently guided her away, asking that she and Simon don’t talk.

Xander had a look of… realization and resignation. Simon was gonna cover for them again. He and Sunny could stick with the alibi that they would have used if Grace had been found dead in the alley… “Is she dead?” Xander asked, shaking and crying/

“Surgery…” Simon said, feeling… equal parts bad for him but still extremely pissed off. He knew that he cared, he did know that… but they just LEFT her. They left her to die, not knowing that Simon was there for her, to avenge her nor to save her. They had left her to die in an alley and would have just… moved on without her, like they’d done with Heath. He felt his own tears forming again, angry ones this time around and he wiped at them with his sleeve. She deserved better.

At least now, he was ready to make his phone call. He just… didn’t want to potentially be arrested if Grace was gonna be alone. Hopefully, somebody would call her parents. She wasn’t close to them, but she loved them a lot, and they deserved to know where she was. She deserved to have them there for her. “Mom…”

“Simon? Baby, it’s 3 am, what in the world is going on?”

He sobbed and said, “Grace was shot..”

He heard the wind leave his mother like she’d just been hit. “Oh my God, Simon. Baby, I am so sorry. Where are you, I’ll come right down!”

“I’m at the hospital. The police want to talk to me. I’m scared that… That they’ll make me leave her here… that they might arrest me.” There was a pause, and he knew that she was trying to process something… “I was just trying to protect her. I killed somebody… He shot her and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t even the fact that he had done it, but telling his mother was… harder than he imagined when he mustered up the courage to call her.

“I’m gonna call the lawyer and come down there. What hospital?”

Simon wrote something on her hand.

It's not the first thing that she noticed. That was the room. A hospital room. What happened? For a moment, she didn’t even know who she was, much less where exactly she was and why, but her brain read her surroundings as a hospital room, and whatever happened, she felt very fuzzy headed and resolved not to say anything aloud until she could figure out more about what happened and why.

The second thing that she noticed was the badge.

It had a visceral and sobering affect on her. She thought about the ACAB button on her favorite canvas bag and her body felt actual elevated pain at even seeing the symbol - a symbol she hated and did not trust. The badge holder spoke, seeing that she was now awake, she mentally noted, not caring that she couldn’t POSSIBLY look like she was capable of holding a conversation, because she still was trying to figure out what happened. “Miss St. Catherine?”

“Monroe,” she groaned. Bitch, was that YOUR voice? She wondered, hearing something that sounded gross and pained come out of her and feeling a tremendous strain as the word flowed from her lips, even as her mind told her not to say THAT. Monroe. She hadn’t used that name in years, but… her brain still automatically spat it out when addressed. “Ugh…” she finally remembered more. Monroe. That’s correct. She had parents and her last name, from them had been Monroe. It took her a while to push out her explanation - both energy and concentration that the badge holder allowed her to power through. “I’m the daughter of Gethsemane Monroe… and Ambrose! Ambrose Monroe. Call him… My father… I’m… hurting…”

The third thing that she noticed was her pain. You’d think it would be instant, but her brain spent so much energy trying to formulate words and connect them to thoughts of questions that she hadn’t. But, by God, now she did.

“You’ve gotten medical attention, but we will contact your parents.”

“Cool. They’ll call the family lawyer.”

“You think that you need a lawyer?”

“I don’t think that you should talk to me in my condition. Can hardly think, and I’m in pain. I’ve…” I’ve been shot! THAT’S what happened. She remembered. Her blood pressure spiked at this realization. “Simon!” Her voice was stronger, in her panic and she moved quite violently, only to realize that she was handcuffed to the hospital bed. Both her wrist and her gsw hurt in that moment and she laid down, breathing hard and holding herself with her free hand.

“Simon Laurent?” The badge holder had been unmoved by her sudden jolt, and unphased by her obvious pain.

“I hope that whatever is in this IV doesn’t make me forget that you’re trying to talk to me in my condition, after the fact that I asked for my lawyer. I hope that they have a lot to say about me being chained to this bed after getting shot.”

The doctor had arrived to check on her and the detective ducked out, with Grace glaring at him. They brought her blood pressure down, gave her more pain medicine and spoke to her about her injuries and procedures. “Am I going to make it?”

“I think so. Good thing that your friend was there.”

“Simon! Is he okay?” her pulse shot up.

“Please try to remain calm, Miss St. Catherine. He wasn’t harmed.” She sighed and rested against the pillow. That wasn’t what I asked… But, that was when she noticed it:

“Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon” The doctor left the room as she stared at the sloppily written message, knowing that even though it looked shaky and/or rushed that it was Simon’s handwriting and he MUST have written it while she was injured… she knew this was an important message. Our last date night? Like… last date-date, date night or last “date night” date night? No… not our last date. There’s nothing special about that. He had recently asked her about their “last date night,” so she knew that must have been what he meant. Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon…

She knew what she needed to do. She waited, trying to breathe and meditate, silently hoping and wishing that she knew Simon as well as she knew that he knew her. She looked at the clock in the room. 4:14 am.

4:58 am, a VERY handsome couple stormed into the hospital and Simon recognized them immediately. Even if he had never seen the photos, Grace was the spitting image of her mother - the woman didn’t even look old enough to have a daughter her age. They could easily pass for sisters, and with a slight variation of her skin tone and hair texture, they had the exact same face, build, and body language. (Though, Grace's body language most likely mimicked her mom's to pass for normalcy) Her father was… clearly rich, because that woman was definitely out of his league and his style was more of a conservative fashion than the clearly purposely fashionable wife, but that was an earlier thought Simon had… not necessarily one he had on this night.

The man was slamming his finger onto the counter and speaking very sternly to the poor lady at the desk. Whatever was happening wasn’t her fault, but Simon figured the police had been just as shitty with them as they’d been with him the past couple of hours. The woman turned and noticed him. She came over and his mother took his hand and intertwined their fingers, seemingly to give him strength. They weren’t sure WHAT Grace’s mother was going to say.

“You’re Grace’s boyfriend,” she said. Simon… knew that Grace said her mom was English, but hearing that voice come out of “Grace’s face” was a bit shocking at first. He nodded his head. If Grace hadn’t announced that they had broken up, this wasn’t the time to. Maybe she also hadn’t mentioned that she’d rushed off because he was stalking her. “Do you know what happened?” She wondered.

The police were a lot more accommodating with allowing her to talk to him than they had been with Sunny and Xander, who were also in the waiting room, with officers beside them, and had been presumably questioned when they’d been guided to the detectives earlier. Simon glanced at them and he saw that the police were staring at him, waiting for him to finally say something. If he wasn’t going to answer them, he would maybe answer this woman. He squeezed his mother’s hand and let himself tell her. “Somebody attacked Grace. She was shot,” he pointed to where. “She’s been in surgery. They won’t say more. The man that shot her… He was somebody… that she knew… from her past, I think,” he said, tilting his head, hoping that Mrs. Monroe would catch what he meant. She stumbled, ever so slightly, letting him know that she indeed did get it. “I killed him,” Simon said. It was more of a proud declaration than anything else. The woman looked… relieved. Simon didn’t know if he was imagining that for his own ego, or if he was simply too disoriented to note things properly. But soon, the doctor approached Grace’s parents and they rushed down the hallway with him. She’s alive. She’s okay… Simon felt himself take the first relieved breath that he’d had in hours.

5:17 am. Outside of her room, she could hear her parents fussing with someone. The other voice wasn’t very familiar, but she ultimately gathered that it was that badge that had been in earlier. He had a hard voice, which, although he was speaking in a low voice, it cut through the wall and sounded very sinister as he told her parents that she couldn’t receive visitors until they figured out what happened in that alley. An accent of “the Queen’s people,” Grace considered it. She wasn’t that great at telling a lot of those accents apart, and found out that people snobbishly point out that their accents are special. Their accents are different. If they had the Queen listed whenever she looked them up online, she just threw it in a bucket. It was an effort on her part NOT to think about linguistics. In fact, she furrowed her brows that she was thinking about it so naturally just from hearing an Australian accent through a door. Damn it.

Her father spoke about the constitution, warned the dick that he knew the law, and her mother insisted that he was incompetent, subhuman, and corrupt. The door opened and the man returned, leaving her parents outside.

“Miss Monroe, or Miss St. Catherine, or whoever you wish to be called these days. Your parents have been alerted and they want to see you. Your boyfriend is out there, speaking to my partner. If you want to get your side out, I would suggest that you do so now.”

She frowned. Her side? Simon wasn’t telling on her. He wouldn’t. She looked at the note on her hand. This cop is trying to get under your skin, Grace.

“People sure do seem to die around you a lot. Hopefully, he'll realize that sooner, rather than later." He adjusted her blanket and smirked, his icy blue eyes seemingly having nothing human behind them as he covered up her still cuffed arm. "But, maybe I'm misunderstanding the facts. Maybe it's not what it looks like. Maybe you weren't trying to attack someone when they shot you in self defense, only to be murdered moments later by some poor fool under your spell."

Now, Grace smirked, but she was in enough pain that it could be mistaken for a wince, if Mace wasn't so receptive. "Yes. You ARE wrong."

"Explain it to me. Simon's certainly explaining it to my partner."

Sieve: Just explain to me what happened

Simon: Is Grace okay?

Sieve: Whatever you know, it could only help her.

Simon: (Sighs) I've already told the police and I also told you and your partner. That guy shot her and I shot him. He attacked, I reacted.

Sieve: What led up to it?

Simon: It happened really fast.

Sieve: Start from when you first saw him. We’ve got time.

Simon: Ummm… he seemed to come out of nowhere to me I don't know.

Grace: I spotted him throwing the trash out back there and I recognized him. I thought he might not recognize me, but if he did... I... Didn't want Simon to know. (Lowers her eyes to the note on her palm. Clenches her fist.) He doesn't know about my past. I didn't want him to know that I was... Product... And I certainly never expected to run into the man who had turned me into product…

Sieve: Did she say who this man was?

Simon: No... She... (Taps into Grace's personality. ‘If I were brainstorming the actions of a character like Grace, how would I outline her response to this line of questioning?’) She seemed paranoid. Secretive. I didn't know him, but I had a feeling that she didn't want me to, so I tried to give her space. I gave them too much of it…

Grace: I tried to get some distance between Simon and I to get a closer look at the guy. It was dark and I didn't know if my past was playing tricks on my mind. It's been almost 15 years now… I didn't really believe myself to be seeing him again, especially in such a random place as this alley.

Mace: But it was him?

Grace: (nods head) It was dark. I was walking up on him and I asked him a question about that day. Are you the nice man with the pinky ring in the white limousine? I asked it out loud before I could stop myself or formulate a more tactful way to handle it.

Mace: And then what?

Grace: (Looks into his eyes) And then he shot me.

Simon: I don't KNOW what she said. I don't know what happened. It was dark and they were a little ways away from me. From what I COULD figure, he seemed to be trying to kill her. I simply reacted.

Sieve: By emptying your gun into him?

Simon: That's… that's how I practice at the range. I've been practicing a lot. I'm a pretty good shot. I just... Went into my practice mode. He was running, but I imagined the firing range targets when they move forward.

Sieve: He was running towards you?

Simon: (Pauses) No.. the other direction.

Sieve: So, you admit that he was running away when you killed him.

Simon: I… never denied that he was running away… AFTER he tried to kill Grace. (Hands shaking in anger and frustration)

Sieve: But, instead of self defense, as you claimed, this sounds like revenge for shooting your girlfriend.

Simon: If you could only be self-aware enough to realize how absurd that is coming from the police. You all shoot people all the time out of fear. Unarmed people who aren't even being violent. This monster shot at us!

Sieve: At her. After she rushed up to him in the dark, in presumably a confrontational manner.

Simon: Why do you presume that?

Sieve: It sounds like your girlfriend rushed upon this man, if it happened so quickly that you can’t form how exactly it did happen. How far away would you say you were from him?

Simon: (Flares nostrils) I didn't measure.

Sieve: (More pensievely than accusatory) But, in the dark, with him moving in the opposite direction, you were a very precise shot. It was not well lit, he was an unknown distance away. Your girlfriend was probably on the ground by then. All on short notice, and in a random alley behind this man’s job. You hit him with every bullet in your gun. You didn't miss at all, and still had time to apply pressure to the wound and call 911.

Simon: I’m a quick thinker and I've been practicing.

Mace: So, the victim…

Grace: Me?

Mace: The murder victim.

Grace: The attempted murderer.

Mace: Had ties to someone you knew. Someone we spoke about before. Heath Farmer.

Grace: (Pulse accelerates. Face becomes firm) I don't believe that.

Mace: The night that Farmer died, he had been a part of a b&e, two of the culprits escaped. The homeowner didn't get a good look at them, but noted that they were all dressed alike and wearing masks. Some time later, a man was taken from his home, not to be seen again. His wife, who hadn't been on the scene when Farmer died, described the kidnappers in a similar fashion as Farmer had been dressed that night. Same exact clothing that was removed from your person for surgery.

Grace: (Unbothered) Sounds like they were stylish.

Mace: 148. That's what you told the police whenever you were initially arrested for beating a girl almost to death.

Grace: A gang member who murdered a small child that police failed to protect.

Mace: Heath Farmer once had a number too, and I'm sure that if I were to go through all of your friends, I would find more numbers. More members of your gang. More murderers…

Grace: I'm sure that you’ll find that there is no type of evidence to indicate that I have murdered anybody, anywhere. The only thing that you have is the word of someone who described an outfit of some people who maybe tapped into a description that her husband gave her when he spoke about work.

Mace: I never mentioned anything about his work.

Grace: You mentioned that the wife’s description matched Heath's death at his murder scene. Either somebody let a civilian on the premises during an investigation, or the woman's husband was on the scene for work, since she was not, as you were happy to inform me. (Bats her eyes)

Mace: (Glares) You were able to pin numerous murders on so-called stewards, who wore all black clothes masks to cover their identities, and yet, in several disappearances over the past couple of years, we find the symbol associated with your old gang. The one that you got away with acts of violence by being rich and pretending to be crazy. Several of those same kids who were on the streets were there for a year while you were allowed to sit in a room, dance and draw pictures with crayons. Maybe the ringleader felt bad for abandoning them. Maybe these people who are disappearing are doing so because the princess has decided.

Grace: This is inappropriate. The detective.

Mace: Why would you and Farmer have matching outfits and be near people associated with the old Apex in the middle of the night? More than one occasion, and it be exactly the same as what the witness saw when her husband was taken?

Grace: My date with Simon was after practice last night, and Heath must have stopped by that man’s house on his way to practice that night.

Mace: Practice?

Grace: (Deadpan) We have a dance crew. (Stare at each other) You can verify it with the Infinity Train Foundation Center. Sometimes we practice there and most of our performances have been there. For the kids.

Mace: You never said that you had practice on the night of his death. (Smirks)

Grace: I said that we cancelled some plans to hang out with Simon. Those plans were practice that night. My other friends wanted to size him up and Heath didn't make it to the little meet and greet. Maybe he was as unfortunate as me. Maybe he saw somebody that he just couldn’t stand not to address. Maybe that’s why he was killed, as opposed to wounded or apprehended for questioning. Sure would have made your job easier than this plot of yours to give me details of the investigation. You might think that you’re programming me to know stuff that I’m not supposed to know so that later that knowledge can be used against me, but I promise, I’m not as stupid as you think.

Mace: (Fumes in frustration as Grace stares at him, emotionless)

Grace: Are you on the take? Is that why you’re so passionately trying to pin cold blooded murder on an internationally recognized children’s book series author?

Mace: Maybe it’s him who’s in your pocket. Unfortunate young man who brings joy to children is a good, strong alibi for a murderous former gang member and child prostitute…

Grace: (Spits in his face)

“Book me for assault for that if you want to, but you don’t have SHIT else on me,” she hissed. “I can’t wait to tell my lawyer what you just said to an injured SURVIVOR of child trafficking, homelessness and the subsequent street violence brought on by aforementioned abuse. I’m a recovery success story, philanthropist, child welfare advocate, and payer of so many taxes… The way that my dad and the DA might as well be fucking each other, they’re so close, and you take my physically and mentally traumatized body, cuff it to a bed while I’m striuggling for my life, and question and accuse me while I’m under medication... I feel like… You should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself, ``Do you want to fight me?” He wiped his face with her blanket, uncuffed her and left the room.

Her parents were speaking with her lawyer whenever he came out. “Going to take Mr. Laurent to the station for more questioning,” he said.

“What?” Mrs. Laurent wondered, walking up with coffee for Mrs. Monroe that she had gone to fetch while waiting for Simon to finish speaking with the other detective. “Simon already told us all that he did what he did in self defense!”

“Other things have come to light, namely that the murder victim…”

“The assailant who tried to kill my daughter,” Mrs. Monroe corrected, infuriating him as well as her daughter had.

“WAS affiliated with the organisation that disbanded and became known as the street gang that your daughter was part of…”

Mrs. Laurent gasped. “Street gang? What are you talking about?”

“What he’s talking about is something that he has no legal RIGHT to talk about and now you’ve just slandered my daughter to a woman who only knows her after her terribly haunting childhood of being forced into a life of crime.” Mrs. Laurent’s eyes were already red from crying, and now they were simply confused, as well. “Mrs. Laurent… Our legal team already has representatives here on behalf of Grace. I’m more than happy to extend their services to Simon, as well.”

“I don’t know that we can afford something like that…” the woman said.

Mrs. Monroe doubted that Simon would have a problem with good legal representation, as she definitely already researched his net worth, but it was true that he didn’t have a team like the one that they did. “Don’t be silly. Our children come first, and it's clear that they are under attack right now. Why else would we be even be entertaining the notion that two beloved pillars of the community are somehow orchestrating a conspiracy theory to…” she gave Mace a look, “What were the claims? Killing a child trafficking gang member?” She finally took her coffee from Mrs. Laurent’s shaking hand, blew on it and took a sip, staring at Detective Mace, for dramatic effect.

It burned her tongue, but she didn’t flinch.

Sieve came from the room that he had been allowed to use in order to speak with Simon and he and Mace touched base, going over the discussions. Simon hugged his mother and Mrs. Monroe stared at the detectives. Her husband approached with the DA on his cell phone to speak with Mace. They watched as he stammered and tried to explain things, then he handed the phone back and punctuated with conversation (pointed at Simon), with, “We’ll be in touch if further questioning comes about. At this moment, no charges will be filed.”

Simon’s eyes smiled and he politely said, “Thank you so much, for everything that you do to keep citizens safe.” Mace knew he was being sarcastic, though there was nothing to prove it and the Monroes had just made it clear that this entire lot would be a unified effort. In fact, the woman was rubbing Simon’s back and talking kindly to him while his mother offered him her coffee cup. Mace left angrily. Sieve seemed less upset, but he always was.

The police were going to stay around for a while, and Grace was only allowed 3 visitors at a time. First, she saw her parents and the lawyer. Then, she saw Sunny, Xander, and Jalicia had come in too, by then. Then, her mom brought Mrs. Laurent in and the woman was trying to be very strong about having had it sprung on her this morning about Grace’s past and the entire situation with the police and things. Grace was extremely tired by the time that Simon finally got around to coming in. So tired, that she only saw his face, smiled, held his hand and fell to sleep, with him and the clock watching over her. 8:41 am.

15. I Trust Him With My Life

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

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jw231992 · 5 years ago

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Danganronpa: Despair Time

(ダンガンロンパ:絶望のタイム)

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First of, I just want to say that this is a fanganronpa that I recently found thanks to Moboxer, the head of what is known as Danganronpa: Kill/Cure. I want to do an analysis of that one soon, but this one I figured would be a good start. So, like the series we've come to know and love, Danganronpa: Despair Time is a series where a group of high school students are trapped in a building and must commit a murder to get out of their situation. With the prologue being released just now, we can get a feel for the characters, and maybe some of my predictions will be right? Who knows. Without further ado, let's get into it.

We will start with the main female lead, Teruko Tawaki, the Ultimate Lucky Student. She's seemingly plain, but not Tsumugi Shirogane plain. I really like the hair color she has going on, and I can't accurately tell what color it is, due to me being colorblind, but I believe it's brown going into gray ends. What also sets her apart from previous Danganronpas is that most of the leads are male. Ones like Danganronpa: the After and Danganronpa REbirth both have female leads which I find very refreshing and would like to see the killing game from a female perspective. The thing that also seemed to stick out to me was how she says she was cursed with bad luck, much like Makoto Naegi feels he was in the first game. It also gives me a sense of sadness, much like Qrow Branwen of the RWBY series and his semblance of always bring bad luck to those around him. As of right now, I can't say too much else about her, but as the main character, I feel she would be a survivor. She'll make it to the end and stop the televised killing game (more on this for another character.)

Alexander Matthews, or Xander, is the Ultimate Rebel. He definitely gives of a Kaito Momota vibe from how he confronts those that insult him, but he also has a very friendly demeanor. So because of this, I am giving him the title of Best Boy, because we all need a Best Boy and a Best Girl. According to the series, his talent isn't so much as being a troublemaker, but moreso taking a stand against what he doesn't like and wants to improve for the better. Honestly, maybe Revolutionist or Protestor would have been a better title? Maybe, but Rebel also has a nice flair to it, so we'll go with what the creator intended. His red hair also gives him a fiery feel, which is what I've come to expect from the Best Boys of the games and fangans. The sad part is, I see him dying in the fifth chapter as a culprit. Probably something he didn't even mean to do or something he didn't want to do, a heartbreaking chapter. But the series isn't fully out to the public yet, so we can't say for certain.

Eden Tobisa, the Ultimate Clockmaker. She's adorable, soft, and I just wanna protect this innocent cinnamon bun. That being said, I don't think she is the one that would get the Best Girl status. A lot of her sprites are pretty cutesy, much like a cat, which seems to be a running theme within this fangan. Or I may just dig a little too deep and find stuff that really isn't there. She gives me a big Chihiro Fujisaki vibe, and would love to see this character being explored more. However, it kind of breaks my heart to say she's probably not going to make it, and I believe she would be the Chapter 1 victim. Like I said, she's small and soft, and makes for an easy victim, but I would definitely love seeing an execution if she ends up being the culprit in a case. Probably something sad and gruesome like her being crushed between a few clockwork gears.

So I wanna say this right off the bat, and I'm sure anyone that saw this girl's talent was like, "What the actual hell is a Zither?!" Thank goodness they tell us what it is and I appreciate learning new things. That being said, this is Hu Jing, the Ultimate Zither Player. Her demeanor gives me a slight Kirumi Tojo vibe, especially given the sprite that I took of her. The way she speaks is amazing and I want to see more. I am probably being way too premature about this, but I have wholeheartedly given her the additional title of Best Girl. She may not have a lot to bring to the table as a Zither player but playing instruments takes dedication and I can speak from experience. Not all instruments are easy to play so learning exotic instruments is that much harder. I also say that she's going to be a survivor as well, making it to the end of the killing game but if not, she'll more than likely be a victim.

Here we have J Moreno, the Ultimate Effects Artist, a talent I can also really appreciate. According to the series, J is a nickname but she gets flustered and doesn't exactly say what that nickname is, which may actually come up later during a trial or some form of Free-Time Event. She also seems to prefer quiet people, as opposed to those who seem flashy or boisterous, like the actors she deals with behind the scenes. I use to be a theatre kid (bring on the TikToks) and whenever I could, I would also attempt to learn tech stuff, namely moving set pieces and the sort, so I have a slight personal connection with this talent. She may have a bit of a standoffish attitude but deep down, I feel she has a heart of gold and would definitely help her friends in a time of need. This sort of demeanor would probably give her more of a Kiyotaka Ishimaru vibe, but not in a "Running in the halls is not welcome in a school environment" kinda feel. More towards the personality. However that assistance may go too far and I feel she is more likely to be a culprit in Chapter 2 of the series. Makes me wonder how the execution of an effects artist will go. We'll see if I'm right.

Oh Jesus. This name is gonna be the death of me, but meet Veronika Grebenshchikova, the Ultimate Horror Fanatic. As you can probably tell from the screenshot, she loves everything horror, and I really like the hair ties she has on with the eyes. It makes her stand out, and I feel makes it tie her whole outfit together. The outfit also seems to be giving me Celestia Ludenberg vibes, but at least people aren't asking if she's Japanese. When I first saw her, I thought she would be some form of Optometrist or something but I'm glad she's a horror fanatic. I, too, also happen to like horror pop culture, and I thought it was kind of funny, and slightly suspicious, that she mentioned that they would be trapped in the building and be forced to kill each other. Because of that, it makes me think she knows more than she's letting on, so a possible traitor/mastermind thing going on with her? If not, she's still probably not going to make it and I've labeled her as one of the victims in Chapter 3. But a horror fanatic's execution would definitely be something I'd be interested in, like Emma Magorobi from Super Danganronpa Another 2.

The Ultimate Inspirational Speaker, David Chiem. I'm unsure of how to pronounce his last name, either Hhheee-em or Chai-em. Either way, I feel kind of let down that a speaker that Xander looks up to really hates his talent, or moreso the people that actually listen to him, revealing he's kinda two-faced, being able to talk shit about those that come to his speeches and then nice to their face. It might have been something that developed while doing it, like he was amazing and loved it at first but then later down the road, he started hating it and wanting it to stop. I don't think the two-faced bit will be as extreme as Kokichi Oma or Nagito Komaeda (his facade at the beginning of Super Danganronpa 2 to the end of Chapter 1) but it may come into play during the trials, maybe during his own? Or if he's being framed for a murder? Despite that, I've marked him as a survivor who let's this killing game change him back to OG David where he loved giving speeches and uses the killing game for a new lease on life.

Arturo Giles, the Ultimate Plastic Surgeon. I don't like him. He's a bit of a snob, and to those that he seems ugly aren't worth his time apparently. Which seems odd, given his talent. I mean, he's a plastic surgeon, so of course there will be people looking to fix a few things they don't like about themselves (I'm talking like Nip/Tuck here, people.) He has this utter fetish for celebrities and their beauty however I was watching a thing way back when, I dunno what it was, but it says the ones that have the most plain faces and such tend to be more beautiful to humans. Or something along those lines, but I'm thinking his mask is hiding something he doesn't like about himself. It makes me kinda sad because precious girl, Seiko Kimura, wore a mask and she was so upfront about everything, so maybe there is a hidden redemption arc just waiting to come out. Watch it be something like ugly teeth or some scar he doesn't want people seeing. Enough about this guy though, as I have labeled him a victim, specifically Chapter 5. Remember how I mentioned that Xander would probably end up being a culprit? Well, I think it'll end up being something that he didn't mean to or want to do, despite not really getting along with Arturo. But if he isn't a victim, he might be a survivor.

Daddy. Haha, I'm kidding, this is Levi Fontana, the Ultimate Personal Stylist. He gives off the "intimidating but innocent cinnamon bun" vibe that Gonta Gokuhara gives off, and even mentions his past during the introduction. Something I wish to see come into play during a trial. Now, a theme I seem to run across is the big person, who is amazing usually dies in Chapter 4, and I hate to say this might also be the case. His past may not have something to do with the trial, but if it does, he would be a culprit. I hope not though because I would love to see the intimidating guy live to the end.

Okay, this guy is also an asshole, and I wanna say it's probably because he's short. Kinda like Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. Ace Markey, the Ultimate Jockey. Despite how he's short like Fuyuhiko, he isn't as willing to go to that point, as he's kind of a wimp. This kind of demeanor makes him less likely to have friends, but I'm interested to see how he got to this point. Probably some form of bullying while he's on his horse, to be honest. Like maybe having issues getting on and the other jockeys laughing at him, but maybe his coach, or mentor giving him this disapproving face when he tries to start something. That's how I see it anyway, but he is probably the Chapter 1 culprit. His execution might be something along the lines of being tied to a fence where horses have to jump over him and he gets hit in the head with horse feet and horseshoes. Then as the fence falls over, he gets trampled on, leaving a bloody mess. I wouldn't be too sad about this character but we'll see as time goes on.

===============================

I would love to continue on but apparently there's a 10 photo per post limit. I will be posting the second part shortly.

#danganronpa #danganronpa despair time #teruko tawaki #xander matthews #eden tobisa #hu jing #j moreno #veronika grebenshchikova #david chiem #arturo giles #levi fontana #ace markey #fanganronpa

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wizisbored · 4 years ago

Note

What are some of your favorite lines you've written for your fics? (Also I'm sorry things aren't going well right now. Sending love 💜)

right its time to go diggin im using this as an excuse to reread everything because i cant think of any lines off the top of my head even though i know theres a shitton

premptively putting a cut here because this will probably end up long as shit and you know what fuck yea to that because fuck yea to being proud of what youve made

hallelujah, first thing i posted:

If those bastards want to make her part of their shitty musical, then she’s going to make it difficult. Or at least inconvenient.

The hive is not inconvenienced in the slightest.’

- idk if this is as funny as i think it is but i find it funny

"Nobody dies with dignity, Emma. There's no honour in the thing, however you dress it up."

- wrote that to sound creepy and now i cant decide whether i actually think its true

But he’s holding her like she’s his salvation, as if it’s his life hanging in the balance.

- salvation is just a good word tbh

It’s hopeless, but she refuses to be killed by a game of fucking ‘got your nose’.

purgatory, intended to be a shitpost but now i unironically think of it as the best thing ive ever written

After a few years (or maybe seconds, it’s not clear) / it takes a moment (or maybe it doesn’t, who knows?) / An undocumentable amount of time passes. / They might have slipped into an uneasy silence lasting millenia - or milliseconds - if it wasn’t for the jolly tune that suddenly fills the air. / for minutes or years or millenia or maybe even eons / After a brief, indescribably long nap / But the incomprehensible amount of time seems somehow shorter this time.

- 2 in one of fucking with the concept of time and hinting at an unreliable narrator, hell yea. its about the weird atmosphere, baybeeeee

“Does one day of trying the hardest we could outweigh years of not trying at all?” Emma wonders aloud. Paul squeezes her hand.

“I damn hope so.”

He doesn’t ask if she believes in Hell.

- even without context i like this line but in context it really helped set the sombre tone so i could do a full 180 at the end of the chapter

Emma wonders whether they’ve been sent to musical hell for failing to stop the musical apocalypse

- love the implication that there is a hell dedicated to annoying people via musical theatre

“You said- you told her you’d never be in a musical?”

“Yes.”

“And then you died performing a musical number?”

“I- yeah, I did.”

“Brilliant! Now, that is stupid!”

- probably my best characterisation of death, sounds like something that would be said in a stupid deaths bit, i can hear it in his voice

teachers pet

“It’s only blatant if people know about it. So in actual fact this is secret favouritism.”

- hidgens gives absolutely 0 shits about the ethics of the situation good for him

“And if that is kidnapping, well, consider yourself kidnapped.”

- once again ethics simply do not matter

“Oh, where is your sense of adventure? Are you not curious about the results of washing baked beans?”

- this line hants me when im trying to make stew or just have some fucking beans on toast because I am curious about the results of washing baked beans

“Well, if it isn’t, and we both die, then I’ll be quite disappointed. We did spend all evening on this, after all.”

- priorities

finishing what we started, actually originally a scrapped ending idea for igtlt that i liked too much to abandon entirely

“How many bullets?” He eventually asks.

“Enough.”

- they just know what theyve got to do

Only thing left to say is a big ol’ fuck you to… God, everyone else in the fucking world. Oh, and God. Fuck you God, you prick.

- gotta love them tto refs

wildfire, almost 20,000 words of angst that im going to read through because fuck it why not

She doesn't understand the order, at least not yet; a dog doesn't understand the first time she's called to heel. But that can change. Though, from the bared teeth of this dog, the trader guesses it may take a while.

- this is actually something i really like doing in narration, calling a character something in dialogue or comparison and then directly calling them it in the narration

He understands; she doesn't want to show weakness to someone who could exploit her, doesn't want to show gratitude to someone she hates. But the tribeswoman is tired and scared and hurt, and it's obvious. She's broken, at least for today.

The loneliness, however, refuses to wane. It settles in her chest like a physical need, a craving for closeness.

- got inspiration for this description by thinking about hugging my partner while i was stuck in lockdown

"You can say that again," the older woman mutters, shaking her head. "God-fuckin'-damnit, Lauren, why d'you never think about the implications?"

Jemilla turns to her with a questioning look. "Who's Lauren?"

"She-" Molag begins to explain, then pauses. She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "I don't even know."

- crossover jokes hell yea

He’s tolerable, she’s decided, at least relatively so, but not trustworthy. If she could truly trust him then he wouldn’t be involved in all this. If she could trust him, she wouldn’t know him.

The thinly-veiled threat in his grin

She stares up at the man, shaking, whimpering, pleading. Wordlessly begging for him to stop.

- gotta love reaching the breaking point

She probably looks insane, bruised and bloody and laughing quietly to herself in a cage. She doesn’t care. They can think she’s insane, just as long as they don’t think they broke her.

laughing as they rediscover half-forgotten days spent as children let loose in a world that seemed so huge and yet so small at the same time

“You know, kids like Zazzalil - scrawny little things born as Autumn died - they’re not supposed to see Spring.”

- i will see any character without a detailed fleshed-out backstory and say ‘is anyone going to make headcannons about that’ and then not wait for an answer

Maybe the pain will shock her out of her head.

im going to live twice

It feels more like a bag of broken crockery than a human.

- this was the only time ive ever had to describe something really gory and decided to make it as uncomfy as possible

she notices with a concerning level of non-concern

Paul Matthews is gone, boy. And if I catch you using a dead man’s name again, well.

- its about the ✨forced disconnect✨

It stares at him, and for a moment he sees the young man that Benny used to be, silently pleading for the agent to tell him he'll be okay.

"In my defence, that was the Colonel's idea.” The man raises his hands in surrender. “I wanted to call you Lauren. I was outvoted.”

- i will take literally any chance to make a 4th wall joke and that is a threat

“I’ll see what can be done,” he assures it, knowing full well that nothing will be.

- xander doesnt flat out abuse emma in the way mcnamara and shaffer do but hes still cruel in subtler ways

“No chance of being hurt?”

Xander nods. “No chance of you being hurt.”

- ✨foreshadowing ✨

If only he was free, free to just get up and go find Blue and tell her - actually tell her, out loud, with words - that she’s going to be okay. If only he could say that and have it be the truth.

She holds onto that piano. Right now, as she kneels crying into the tabletop, it's all she has.

- ‘sir thats my emotional support near-complete stranger’

smoke and feathers

Irony can be a cruel, twisted bitch.

- probably the best opener ive written

There’s a sort of pathetic irony in the fact that she slipped on a stone while wading across a shallow stream and broke her neck.

The stars move across the sky, and she still doesn’t know why.

- sounds poetic and all while also being a fuck you to the chorn twist because i hate it

It seems like every time she looks away the moon goes from waxing to waning and back again, time marching onwards in one unending night, swallowing one unending forest.

Even with her limited view of the person’s face, Zazzalil can see the softness in their expression. She’s hit with a pang of longing for Jemilla.

They share those tender looks that make Zazzalil long for home.

The kind of silence only shared between people who can appreciate the simplicity of each other’s presence

aaand thats pretty much all of em. i know when you said ‘some’ you probably meant less than this but i will give a consice answer to a question when pigs fly. i was going to do the double e au too but its past 1 am now and im going to bed. thanks for this ask because whether intentionally or not you just made me read 48,860 words of fic and thats a damn good distraction when things are getting a bit shitty :)

#igtlt fic #wildfire fic #teachers pet fic #sf fic

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aeyolia · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 9 - Erik

“But why is her name Pearl?!” Erik exclaimed.

“Because all of them are named after gems. We've been through this.” she laughed, shaking her head at him. They were five episodes in and that was the thing he couldn’t let go of.

“But that's the thing a pearl isn't a gem! A pearl is a composite of Aragonite and conchiolin. Gems are solely minerals with no organic compounds.” he sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. The door rang, catching his attention. Most likely, the pizza they ordered not to long ago.

“You are putting too much thought into this.” She sat up and went to answer the door. He watched as she walked away, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he needed to zero in on something other than the fact he was in nothing but boxers and a robe, alone with Anya. She had insisted on throwing his clothes in the dryer and now was regretting telling her okay. Well half way regretting. He couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the pink that had found her cheeks when she saw him come back out barely dressed. His phone buzzed for about the tenth time and he decided to finally glance at it. They were mostly from Jess and the team wondering where he was. Another text sent at that moment.

Tatertot: Is Anya okay? Rumors are spreading like wildfire about her right now. And your coach is pissed.

Golden Boy: She's fine. How did you know I was with her? Was it Landon?

Tatertot: Let's see if X = Rumor about Anya losing it + Erik getting the urge to skip (both of them missing)

Tatertot: X= Erik is with Anya.

Golden Boy: Must you be so annoying?

“Is everything alright?” Anya asked walking back in the room, pizza in hand. Erik shut the ringer of the phone off and placed it back in the pocket of the robe.

“Yeah. Just my teammates looking for me.” he lied. He didn't want to but he figured it be best if she didn't know there were rumors spreading about her. He wanted to protect her from that. “Apparently, me skipping was a bigger deal than I realized.” he shrugged moving over so she'd fit easily next to him. She climbed up on the couch, sitting on top of crossed legs.

“People don't like change. It's a proven fact. Skipping a class is one thing but the entire day? Your fan club is probably losing its mind.” she teased him.

“My fan club?” Erik asked opening the box up and taking out a slice and handing it to her.

“Oh please, don't act like you don't know. I've been there two days and I know.”

“Know what? I'm genuinely lost here Sterling.” he pushed, feigning obliviousness.

“Come on, you are way too smart to be this dense. I KNOW you know how much everyone loves you. Everyone thinks you're attractive, talented, smart, the whole package.” she spoke taking a bite of her own slice. Erik watched her and she scrunched her eyebrows together. “What?”

“So...everyone thinks that huh? Even you? ” he asked trying to hold back a grin. She rolled her eyes in response, but the flushing of her face gave her away. “Well I'm not all that golden you know.”

“Oh yeah? Name one thing.” she said pausing the show and turning to face him.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” he offered.

“Deal. You first though.” she egged on.

“Okay. You want to know what I'm actually really bad at?” he said putting the pizza down. “Romance.”

“Way to tell the truth.” Anya rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious!” Erik played with the arm of the sofa, as he spoke, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had girls interested. Hell, even guys. I've taken a few out here and there for like dances, formals...prom was a must.”

“You were Prom King weren't you?” She interrupted, trying not to smile.

“NOT the point right now” he said rolling his eyes.

“That’s not a no.” She giggled making the teasing more endearing than annoying. He smiled.

“Really though. I just never met that person you know? And I didn't want to just lead anyone on. My life is busy. I never have any idea what I'm doing. People call me the Golden Boy. The All-American Dream. But it doesn't come without work. I barely have free time. I didn't want to ask someone to deal with that without really knowing that I liked them. Without knowing it be worth it.” he stopped talking, waiting for her reaction.

“There's nothing wrong with waiting until you find the right person.” Anya replied, taking his hand. “You put the care of others before yourself. You sacrifice yourself to live up to people's expectations. So you're not perfect? Doesn't make you any less Golden. In fact, it makes you a diamond.”

“Is this about to be a Steven Universe pun?”

“No! I'm being serious. Diamonds form after extreme amounts of pressure. And real, raw Dqiamonds have flaws. And yet we still think they are beautiful.” she explained. “See? I know a bit about geology too.”

“I never doubted it for a second.” he smiled back. “So, what about you? Is there a guy waiting for you back in New York?”

“Well, no. I had a boyfriend once but, we broke up pretty quick. Most people steer cleared from me. ” she sighed softly. Now she was the one who was nervously playing with the couch.

“How come?” Erik asked, turning to give her his full attention.

“Well, when I was younger, weird things used to just happen to me all the time. I'd wake up at the docks every morning. My dad even used to lock my bedroom door but it didn't matter. And I couldn't ever tell them how I'd end up there because I'd be sleeping. And then things of coincidence always happened around me. Pipes bursting or windows shattering. Eventually, people just avoided me. Not that I could blame them. Then one day it all just. Stopped. I thought it was finally over. I could be normal. But then I moved here and it’s starting again.”

“And that's why you freaked about the dreams.” he said and she nodded solemnly. “You were worried we’d reject you too.”

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to be so this.” she began to tear up, and Erik’s heart crumbled in his chest. No wonder she reacted the way she did. Something like that could be traumatic for anyone.

“Hey, no tears.” He said, wiping one stray drop one from her cheek. “I know what it was like to feel alone, we all do. Even with my family, as close as we are, I always felt like I'm still catching up. Like I must work ten times harder just to fit their perfect family image. Xander's basically a single parent to his siblings. His parents work their asses off all day and night. And Jess well...she's an orphan. A victim of a failed system. We all have felt alone. We all have our demons. That's why we're so close. The worst things about our lives, they are what keep us together. Being a little different won't push us away Anya.” Erik stroked her face lightly with his thumb. “We’re your friends.”

“You've only known me two days Erik.” she said eyes closed, face leaning into his hand.

“Yeah, but it feels like longer doesn't it?”

Anya nodded and opened her eyes. Erik swore his heart skipped the moment their eyes locked. A thick air of tension now laid between what once was an innocent conversation. God, he wanted to kiss her. Correction. Every nerve in his body was fighting the urge to kiss her.

“Anya...” he spoke her name softly, one thumb rubbing across her cheek.

“Yes?” she answered, and his eyes flickered to her lips and then back to her eyes. Those damn aquamarine eyes stole every piece of reasoning and logic he had.

“Would it be okay, if I-.” He stopped talking when she nodded, moving closer to him. Their mouths connected and Sparks flew in every direction, and the world disappeared around them, along with all of their worries, thei troubles and their problems. She made him feel like none of that mattered. It was a small yet warm kiss. Erick honestly never knew a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying. Their lips were moving in perfect sync, his hands feeling her waist. He pulled her closer, the kiss deeper, more passionate.

He intended to just kiss her once, take things slow. But when she didn't move away, the kiss grew hungrier, desperate. She moved to straddle him fingers running down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. Erik's fingers ran through her hair, causing it to cascade down around her shoulders.

God she was beautiful.

He wanted to slow down, but he couldn’t. No girl ever, would ever, take his breath away that she had. It was petrifying as it was mesmerizing.

The doorbell rang, snapping them out of their passion infused state. They separated their lips, foreheads pressed together as their chests rose and fell, lungs begging for oxygen. The bell rang again.

“I should get that.” she finally said, a smile on her face, lips red and swollen.

“Or we could ignore it?” he smiled back, pulling her back to him. Emboldened by the rush of hormones running though his system he began to kiss her neck and shoulders. She sighed, one hand running through his hair before gripping it and pulling his head away from her body. The bell rang again and Erik let out a frustrated groan. Anya giggled, placing one last kiss on his cheek before untangling herself and walking towards the door.

Erik laid his head back on the sofa, taking deep breaths as he regained his composure. Never had he ever been pulled so strongly to a person. He hoped she didn't think he was lying earlier. That he was just trying to make a move on her. Because that wasn't the case. Anya was different. He knew it the moment she saw her.

The creak of the door echoed and he heard Anya gasp. He quickly sat up to peer into the foyer.

“We decided to skip in solidarity...and bought apology donuts! Please say you don’t hate me?” Jess' voice echoed down. “I'm sorry we pushed all that on you. It was stupid...Can we come in?”

Anya looked over at Erik who shrugged in return. Your choice. He mouthed.

“Well...how can I say no to apology donuts?” Anya smiled. He watched as Jess jumped happily into Anya’s arms. “Okay, okay! Come in.” She took a step back and in walked Jess and Xander.

“We weren't interrupting anything were we?” Xander asked, one eyebrow raising at Erik who suddenly realized how this looked. He pulled the robe tighter around him.

“Not at all. My clothes are in the dryer. Pipe burst remember?” He explained, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

“I'm sure there was. “ Jessica smirked and Anya's face turned red.

“ANYA was introducing me to the world of Steven Universe.” Erik changed the subject.

“Help yourselves to the pizza.” Anya said, taking a seat next to Erik. He lifted his arm up and without missing a beat she snugged against him. It made his smile grow into a full-on grin.

“Oh no...they’ve imprinted.” Jess said falling to the ground dramatically. “I can see what's happening. And they don't have a clue. They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line. Our trio's down to two!”

She and Xander continued to quote the Lion King earning a hard pillow toss from Anya,

They all laughed, Anya catching them up on the show.

And just like that it was like that morning had never happened.

#chapter #chapter 9

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heyyyharry · 6 years ago

Text

In Another Life Series: Chapter 9 - The Witch

…in which Y/N and Harry both had to choose.

Series description: Y/N and Harry are soulmates and destined to meet in every lifetime, but no matter how many times they reincarnate and find each other again, they never seem to get it right.

AU: reincarnation, soulmate!harry, prince!harry, assistant!y/n, witch!y/n.

Chapter 8 - The Curse: Y/N discovered the truth, and Harry was just late.

(I think I was drunk and sad when I wrote most of this chapter, and I haven’t edited for the last time so please ignore any mistake while you’re reading)

“Harry! Where’s Harry?! Where is he?!”

“Y/N, calm down!” Jeff caught the frantic girl right before she could burst into the emergency room, holding her tightly so that she couldn’t break away from his arms no matter how hard she struggled to.

“I need to see him!”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay…Y/N, look at me…It’s okay, the doctor said he’d be fine.”

Y/N kept shaking her head, ignoring whatever the man was trying to tell her because she knew it wasn’t true. Nothing was okay. And she was the reason why everything had gone wrong.

“This is all my fault…Oh God…I did this to him.”

Jeff and the other people from Harry’s team exchanged looks for they had no idea why the assistant was reacting this way. She couldn’t explain it to them, they wouldn’t understand!

“How’s it your fault sweetie?” Sarah asked, reaching out to hold Y/N’s trembling shoulders in order to calm her down. “It’s nobody’s fault. His blood pressure suddenly dropped so he fainted, but he’d be fine.”

“What else did the doctor say?”

Mitch swallowed hard before he spoke, “the doctor…wasn’t sure, she assumed it had something to do with heart problems.” No, no, no, no. “So they’re gonna need to run some tests when Harry wakes up.”

“Harry’s never had heart problems before,” Y/N mumbled, probably for only herself to hear, because she knew this couldn’t be a coincidence. It was the bloody curse that she casted upon him, upon them both! Jason was right. As soon as they’d admitted how they felt about each other, something bad happened. It put Harry in danger. She put Harry in danger. She could never forgive herself for this.

“When can I see him?” Y/N sniffed, taking in a deep breath so as to stay calm because freaking out wouldn’t solve any problems, only make things worse.

“Not now, he’s still unconscious. The doctors and nurses would take care of him, don’t you worry,” Jeff reassured her with a comforting smile; however, she knew he was just as frightened as she was, it was his job to keep his composure when everyone else couldn’t.

An unexpected incoming call got Jeff’s attention immediately. He intended to ignore it, but his phone kept on ringing thus he had to take a look to see who it was. Judging by his wide-eyed reaction to the caller ID, Y/N could tell more trouble was coming their way, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for more.

“I need to take this,” Jeff announced before making an exit and telling the rest to notify him if there was any update on Harry’s condition.

Once he’s left, the others started putting out their own theories on Harry’s sickness while discussing the possibility of cancelling his next few tour concerts. Y/N didn’t participate as she had her eyes fixed on Harry’s manager, who was pacing back and forth behind those glass doors leading into this hallway. The glass was soundproof, yet she could tell he was raising his voice at whoever was talking to him on the phone.

This shouldn’t be good…

“Fuck!” Was the first word that escaped that man’s mouth the moment he returned.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Sarah.

As much as Y/N wanted the answer to be ‘nothing’, she knew from the bottom of her heart it was impossible.

“Lillie Xander’s team had a talk with the press.” He inhaled deeply and that pause had everyone else stop breathing all at once. “She’s…pregnant.”

“You’re joking.” Mitch exhaled an agitated laugh in order to lighten up the mood, but the response he got was utter silence.

Jeff stormed away, holding his head in frustration, leaving the rest of the team in shock, so Y/N hurriedly chased after him for she was probably the only one who didn’t believe a tiny bit of Lillie’s big announcement.

“She can’t be pregnant! She’s lying!” The assistant cried out as she picked up her pace to catch up with the manager.

“Not possible, but let’s hope you’re right. God fuck!”

Y/N grabbed the man by the sleeve to stop him from expanding the distance between them, and he paused to face her. He was furious, she knew, but behind that anger, just like Y/N, he feared for whatever this would mean for his friend/client.

“She’s lied about many things before, Jeff. You can’t believe something her team said.”

“Look kid, you don’t know Lillie as well as we do, alright?” Jeff gritted his teeth as he spoke in a distraught manner. “That woman might be a pathological liar but she’s also smart, there’s no way in hell she’s lying about having a baby which could be easily exposed.” Then followed a short pause, the look on his face altered and she hoped this man had discovered something in his own previous explanation. “Unless…”

Y/N knew where he was going with this, so she finished the sentence for him, eyes widened. “Unless the baby’s not his…”

“We’ll do a test to find out, what’s it called? The one to identify the father before the child’s born.” Jeff clicked his fingers anxiously, trying to remember the term but Y/N did it first.

“A prenatal paternity test,” she filled in the gap in his mind quickly. Having a geeky friend like Jason did help after all, he’d told her all kinds of weird facts that she’d never asked for, and she was actually surprised how she still remembered most of them, including this.

“Great! We’ll do that!”

Jeff’s joy didn’t last for too long because Y/N had to put out his hope as soon as it sparked. “It’s not safe, I’ve heard that many doctors are unwilling to carry out this kind of test since its results are unpredictable, and we’ll also need the mother’s consent. She won’t go through with that.”

“Then we’ll wait until the baby’s born.” Jeff nodded once, setting two hands on his hips, eyes switching back and forth from the ceiling and the floor. Y/N was just as distressed, she was pinching her arm so hard it might bleed and she wouldn’t even notice.

“Harry’s career will have been ruined by then…” she whispered, but loud enough for both of them to hear.

Up till now there was no surprise that she was the root of all these bad-lucks coming towards the man she loved. If she kept staying by his side, who knew what else could happen? She needed to leave, even though it’d be the last thing she wanted considering he was still unconscious in the ER. But how much more damage would it need to take for her to snap out of it and let him go? She’d ruined his life, lifetime after lifetime, since she casted that curse. She couldn’t do this anymore. If anyone was going to suffer in this life, it should be her and her only.

“You stay here in case H wakes up. I’m gonna try contact Lillie, alright?”

“Wait, Jeff.” Before he left she stopped him again. “I need to tell you something…”

“Well, is it important?” He scoffed, receiving a nod in response.

“I…” she began, not knowing whether she should continue or not. Time was running out, she had to make a choice.

What was it gonna be?

“I quit.”

Growing up at the French Court, princess Emilié had lived her entire life in gold and pearls. She was loved by her father and mother, and she had plenty of servants. Even in the games she played in the yard with the other noble children, they were forced to let her win.

Emilié had never faced defeat, until the day her father decided to send her to England for an arranged marriage, to the man whom she did not know. It was the first time in her life she couldn’t have it her way, and no matter what she said or did, even if she’d starved herself for days, she still wasn’t given another choice. So she ended up following her father’s order and travelled to the English Court to see the man she was supposed to love. She was miserable.

She arrived in England just in time the whole Palace received the news the Prince had gone missing; and a part of her was hoping he wouldn’t return, then she could go home to her family and have her old life back.

Unfortunately, he did return. And therefore, Emilié blamed Edward for all of her misery; she deeply hated him though she didn’t know him at all. But the big problem lied in the fact that she didn’t know the Prince then. She could’ve just made up a whole fake personality for him inside her head. She could’ve made him an evil man who loved nothing but the Throne and himself. She could’ve done that, and she wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. Maybe he should’ve just let that happen and they would’ve both been free. But Edward did the opposite. He allowed her to get to know the real him.

For the first time since she got to England, Emilié had got someone to talk to, other than her two boring maids. Edward was smart, really smart, and kind as well. He knew a lot about everything, poetry, philosophy, history, music,…all the things she loved. He was a match made for her, well, at least she thought he was. So she completely abolished the idea of running from the marriage, because she loved this man, and she wanted to be his Queen, to sit by his side and devote her entire life to him.

Had it been that easy, things wouldn’t have ended the way it did.

“You!” Emilié called for the Prince guard as he walked by, and the man immediately bowed before the Princess. “Come. Do me a favor.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Bring this to Ann,” she said, handing him a folded piece of paper. “Tell her it’s from His Highness.”

The guard looked at Emilié in hesitation as he gathered all his courage to eventually tell her, “I’m very sorry, Your Highness. I could only do it if was His Highness himself who asked me to.”

“Pardon?” Emilié widened her eyes and breathed out a laugh. “Are you talking back now?”

“No, Your Highness, I—“

“Well, His Highness specifically requested this note to be delivered to Ann. How dare you refuse to follow his order, just because his future Queen was asking you on his behalf? Do you still want to keep your stupid head on this useless body of yours?”

“I do…Your Highness.”

“Then give this to Ann immediately,” she firmly demanded, and the servant received the letter from her hand without any hesitation this time.

“Good.” She gave him a nod. “Now go.”

The man paid his respect to the Princess then hurried on his way without knowing, just like Emilié, he was just a tool for the Queen’s malicious plan. And poor Ann would be the one who had to face the consequences.

Emilié knew that note would end a person’s life, yet she still believed it was what needed to be done. There could’ve been an easy way out had Ann never shown up and made it difficult.

Emilié believed she’d sacrificed her youth for her nation by this marriage, so she deserved a happy ending with the man she loved, as the Queen of England. She wouldn’t let a girl with no name steal that away from her, she could not allow it. The rose had finally shown its thorns, this time she wouldn’t accept defeat so easily.

There was one thing everyone knew about Lillie Xander, besides the fact that she’d got everything handed to her so easily since the day she ran into her Prince Charming - Harry Styles: Lillie Xander never got sad.

Sure she could be irritated by mostly anything, but sad? She couldn’t even recall the last time she’d really cried. But it was now 2AM, and Lillie was alone in her hotel room, sitting on the bathroom floor, bawling her heart out, because she was witnessing her life falling apart and there was nothing she could do about it.

There was a knock on the door, she assumed it was room service so she screamed at them to leave. However, it wasn’t, it was an unexpected guest, the last person she’d want to meet at a time like this.

The knocking got louder and more persistent so Lillie was left with no choice but to wipe off her tears and head out to see who it was.

“Jake?” Her heart almost stopped the moment she found her love affair outside her room. “How…How did you find me?”

“I contacted your assistant.”

“Goddamn it!” Lillie cursed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she exhaled a heavy breath. “Well, after this she’s not my assistant anymore, that little bitch.”

Jake rolled his eyes yet he ignored the girl’s attitude to go straight to the point, “can I come in? We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t need to talk.” She pressed one hand to his chest to keep him from barging into her room. “We are over, Jake. Go home.”

“We need to talk about that bab—“

Before the man could finish that sentence, Lillie covered his mouth as she grabbed his wrist and tugged him inside, slamming the door shut behind them. He laughed in amusement when she let him go, but she found no humor in this situation.

“So it’s true?” Jake snorted. “It’s mine?”

Lillie’s silence was the answer he’d expected to hear.

“No. Fucking. Way. Why didn’t you tell me first? It’s all over the news now!”

Right. She’d asked her team to spread that news because it was the only way for Harry to know about it.

“This baby,” the word was forced out of her mouth, just the sound of it caused her extreme discomfort, “is not yours, it’s Harry’s.”

“Bullshit. We both know it’s the result of that time we—“

“I remember, you asshole!” Lillie raised her voice and caught her ex-lover off guard. “But you are not fit to be a father! You are an unemployed loser who can’t even take care of himself let alone me and a human baby!”

Jake wasn’t new to Lillie’s insults but it’d be a lie to say he wasn’t surprised. He’d always known the kind of person she was, but to know she would stoop this low was a brand new discovery to him.

“He won’t believe your bullshit and will definitely ask for a DNA test, and then what, Lillie? You’ll be exposed and it’s the official end to your career!”

“Oh he’ll believe me.” She scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He always will.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He’s a good person, you asshole! I love him!”

“Love him?! You cheated on him, Lil! With me!” Jake reached for her hands but Lillie shrugged him away just as fast.

“You and I were a mistake.” She swallowed, pursing her lips. Harry and her were going through a tough time and she found comfort in Jake, which was wrong and Lillie knew that now. So she would take this baby as an opportunity to turn things around.

“And don’t even think about meeting him to tell him the baby’s yours.” A smirk appeared on her face as she calmly spoke, “it’s your words against mine. I can just fake the evidence about our relationship to make you look like an insane stalker, then tell the whole world you’re just another one of my obsessive fans. After all, I’ve been publicly harassed before so people would definitely believe me.”

“You crazy bitch!”

“Yes, I am. So what? Now get out before I call my body guard.” The singer demanded, pointing a finger to the door; and Jake couldn’t do anything else but to exit the room in silence.

Once he was gone, Lillie dropped down on the couch nearby, face in her knees. She might’ve gotten rid of this burden, yet only temporarily as she knew he would come back for the baby, his baby. She’d better get to Harry first before any more damage was done.

It was already past midnight, and Ann was still patiently waiting for her prince in his father’s library. When she read his note, she felt it was a bit strange that he wanted to meet at a place like this, it was so unlike him, but she reckoned it was pretty smart since no one would suspect them to be here at this hour.

She came here with a light heart, unguarded, unaware. She’d been told by almost everyone she knew to never put her hopes up so high, yet she believed in Edward, and she believed him when he said he loved her. She’d turned into a hopeless romantic and there was no turning back now. If tonight he told her to run away with him, her answer would be yes for sure. He could never choose both her and his Throne, so she would either leave this room tonight with him or without him, and judging by his affection and determination to be with her shown in the note, she was leaning towards a happy ending for them, together.

While waiting, the girl sat by the fireplace, watching the dancing amber putting on a show. There was something unusual this time, the flames were moving in a frantic way, as if trying to tell her something. She straightened her back, eyebrows furrowed as she leaned in closer, slowly being hypnotized. But she immediately snapped out of it when the door opened without warning.

It wasn’t Edward.

“Your Majesty!”

Ann bent her knees and lowered her head to bow before the King. She wondered why he was here, and started praying Edward hadn’t already been caught sneaking out to see her.

With her head hung low, the young girl couldn’t see the man’s face; she could, however, sense his terrifying smirk as the sound of his heavy footsteps were coming closer.

The man pressed his fore and middle finger beneath her chin to lift her face up so they were eye to eye. This was actually the first time she’d ever looked at him up close, and though Ann stood up tall, her trembling hands were gripping onto her dress. The fire behind her grew a bit bigger than before in sync with the fear growing inside her chest.

The King took hold of her hand and she brushed him off, eyes switched to the floor again. She wished it’d been just another nightmare and when she woke up her prince would be by her side. Then her thoughts got interrupted by the older man’s tight grip on her wrist and arm secured around her waist forcefully.

“Your Majesty! Please let go of me!” She pleaded. She wanted to scream for help yet she couldn’t. He was the King, he was the Law, shouting for help could get her executed.

The voice inside her head was desperately screaming her lover’s name. Where was he anyway? He should’ve been here, not the King!

“Don’t be shy, darling. I know you want me.”

Ann didn’t think twice as she violently pushed the man away, causing him to stumble a few steps backwards and widen his crazy eyes at her.

“How dare you?!” He growled and marched towards the frightened girl like a tiger attacking a wounded deer.

The fire behind Ann flared out all of a sudden before he could grab her. She fell down onto the floor and opened her eyes to find a horrific scene right in front of her. The King was on fire.

He screamed in agony as the flames consumed him in a way he’d intended to do to her. Ann stared at her shaky palms, completely terrified. She knew she’d subconsciously done it. Her fear and anxiety had caused her own powers to go out of control, now she couldn’t stop it anymore, she didn’t know how. So she burst into tears and held her knees to her chest as she watched the man in front of her howl and drop down onto the carpet while the flame was eating him alive.

“Guards!” The loud scream at the entrance caught Ann’s attention. It was no other than Princess Emilié, who was holding back the Queen from rushing in to save her husband’s life.

“No, this isn’t my fault! I swear!” Ann cried out, though nobody cared what she had to say. So before the men in armors arrived, Ann fled out of the room.

“Witch!” Screamed the desperate wife whose husband was dying right in front of her. Ann could hear them chasing after her, she didn’t look back and kept on running until she got to the throne hall, where she found Edward, her only hope.

He caught her before she fell down on the floor right in front of him and she could barely breathe.

“Ann, are you okay? What’s wrong? Tell me!” He was scared, yet not as much as her.

She had no time to explain or ask him why he hadn’t shown up. All she could was blurt out, “save me please. They’re gonna take me away, please save me!”

The young girl had completely lost her composure for her tears had blurred out her eyesights. Edward didn’t know what his lover meant but he knew she was in pain, physically and emotionally in pain.

The guards didn’t take so long to storm in, followed by Emilié and the Queen, who shouted the second she saw her own son, “Edward, she killed your father!”

“What?!” Edward loosened his grip on Ann’s shoulders, and she had to reach for his hands to keep him with her.

No, not him too. He couldn’t take their side, that would mean she’d be on her own. She pulled him back to her, wondering why he looked so confused. He didn’t believe that she was a cold blood murderer, did he? He couldn’t have believed them!

“Edward, please! It wasn’t my fault—“

“She’s a witch, Edward!” Yelled Emilié when the guards yanked Ann away from the Prince. And he let them. He let them.

“She came to the King’s reading room and…b-burnt him alive!”

“It was you, wasn’t it?! You sent me the note!” Ann screamed at Emilié, whose face went pale in fear of being exposed, yet it was the last thing Edward cared about, unfortunately.

“Ann, tell me you didn’t…”

“It was self-defense!”

“You burnt my father alive Ann!”

“No!”

“You gave me your word! How could you have done this?!” He roared, feeling a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. All the memories of the night they first met started rushing back, how she’d said she’d hated the King for having murdered her family and burnt down her village. He just had never thought she would use him as an excuse to get close to his father.

“So it’s been about revenge to you all this time?! I brought you in so you could kill my father?!”

“No!” She sobbed, struggling to get away from the men who were holding her back. “I love you, I really love you!”

“Take her away!” The Queen commanded, and the guards used force to drag Ann out of the room.

Edward watched them take her away, tears filled his eyes still he didn’t do anything about it, he didn’t know if he should. He didn’t know who to believe or what he should feel right now. He held his mother in his arms as she started crying, then eventually turned his eyes away from the girl he’d once sworn to love until the day he died.

“Edward, please, don’t let them take me away please! Please believe me!”

Her screaming echoed within these castle walls, into his own brain. Those sounds would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Harry saw her again in his dream, the woman who looked like Y/N.

He was back in that room, she was there, once again begging for his help. He tried to ask her to explain what was wrong, but before she could, she faded away.

The dim light on the ceiling above his head slowly came into view. Harry didn’t recognize this room. Why was there a tube linked to his wrist and what was with all these machines by the side of his bed?

“You’re awake.”

He slowly turned to the side and saw his manager Jeff sitting in an arm chair, staring at him.

“What happened? Why am I in a hospital?” Asked the singer, then suddenly he remembered something more important than his condition right now. “Where’s Y/N?”

Jeff sighed, which made Harry think whatever he was about to say wouldn’t be good news. The older man was well aware that he shouldn’t tell his client this while he was still in a hospital bed, yet the Harry he knew too well wouldn’t stop worrying and overthinking until he received his answer.

“She left a while ago,” Jeff spoke the truth. “She gave me her resignation.”

“What?” Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together and his mouth fell open, he didn’t want to believe this. She couldn’t have left him after everything they’d confessed to each other. He might not be mentally stable at the moment but he knew their little moment earlier in his dressing room was real. She told him she loved him and that was real!

With difficulty, Harry rose from the bed and Jeff had to rush to his side to keep him from standing up.

“Hey, mate! You can’t leave now, they said—“

“I need to go find her!” He tried to push Jeff away but he was too weak to do so.

“Harry, you can’t, you don’t know where she is!”

“How could you let her go?!”

“I couldn’t force an employee to stay when she wanted to quit!” The older man breathed harshly as he held onto his friend’s shoulders and urged him to sit back down.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry shook his head fast to get rid of those images of Y/N begging for his help in the previous dream. It felt too real to ignore. What if Y/N was really in trouble in real life? She might need him there with her.

“Harry, kid, hey…” Jeff got down on his knees and held Harry’s hand while Harry sat on the edge of the mattress. “If you want to see her that bad, I’ll call her for you alright? But you can’t go anywhere until the doctor says you can.”

Though Harry wanted to see his love in person, his whole body was against it. So he decided to compromise by giving Jeff a nod, which was a sigh of relief to the manager.

“Please do that, thank you…”

“Now lie down, I’ll go get her for ya,” Jeff reassured him once more then helped him lie back down. Everything gradually became hazy once his head hit the pillow. Harry saw Jeff heading outside and talking to a nurse, then just like that he nodded off, drifting back to the familiar places at the back of his mind.

It’d been a week, a week which felt like a century long. Time seemed to move so slowly when you were surrounded by four brick walls. The only connection between Ann and the outer world was that tiny gap they called ‘window’ high above near the ceiling, which a person twice her height couldn’t even reach.

Ann had spent nearly seven days in this tower already. They kept her there until she received the final decision from the new King, King Edward.

She’d heard from the guards about the old King’s death, and that the royal members had told their people he had passed away from severe injuries from a hunting trip. They didn’t mention her setting him on fire and that she was a witch. So despite knowing it was a desperate thing to do, deep down in her wounded little heart, which was still struggling to continue beating, Ann hoped Edward realized that she wasn’t the one at fault, that she did it for self-defense, that she loved him too much to use him as an excuse to take revenge.

Sitting in the corner of the room with her knees pulled to her chest, Ann started counting the bricks on the walls to keep her mind sane for she knew many people who had been imprisoned didn’t get out the same. Their minds had been confined and minimized to the space they’d been locked in and Ann didn’t want that to happen to her, if she could ever get out of here though.

The heavy door was unlocked for the second of the day, and it wasn’t time for her second meal yet. The young girl stood up immediately, with a broken smile on her face, hoping it’d be him, hoping he would run into the room and hold her tight then tell her he would not let those people hurt her in any way. But she was once again, disappointed.

It wasn’t him, it wasn’t her Edward. It was two men dressed in amours, here to deliver the news, which she already knew would be unpleasant to hear.

“I came in the name of His Majesty, King Edward…”

Ann felt a lump in her throat, still her head was held high for she didn’t want to look as destroyed on the outside as she was already on the inside.

From the paper sealed by Edward himself, the man read a long list of crimes she’d allegedly committed and she didn’t pay attention to any of them for the only thing she was truly guilty of was falling in love with the future King of England.

The only word that mattered, the only word she heard loud and clear, the only word that pierced through her chest like a glass knife after hammering in the walls of her brain — ‘Execution’.

That only word sent her down on her knees into a sobbing mess once the guards exited and the door was locked again. By this time tomorrow, she would face her death, and her ultimate ending would be her burnt to ashes by the order of the man she loved with all her heart. She’d looked past every single warning sign for him, and now it was too late to regret or change her own fate.

It was so stupid of her to believe anyone in this palace could have a kind heart; it was so stupid of her to believe he had truly loved her; it was so stupid of her to try and play this game against her own destiny.

But, did she deserve all of this? Did she deserve to die for protecting herself, for falling in love, for putting trust in another person? Or did the man who had fooled her into believing they could have their own happy ending despite of everything against them, who’d fed her lies by saying he would always choose her? And after all of this, the thing that pained her the most was the fact that she’d seen it coming all along. When it came to making a choice, she would be the last thing he chose.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven’t already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin—“

Watching the last passengers boarding, Y/N ignored the airline announcement as always. She just wanted the plane to take off right away so when she woke up from a nap she was back in London again. Being home with her friends would make this heartbreak easier to cope, or so she hoped.

Now that she thought of him, she suddenly remembered she’d never got to say one last goodbye. The last time they spoke, she told him she would come back, and now she was leaving him for good. But how was this gonna work then? How could you leave someone behind when they were all you could think of?

The business man sitting next to her wore the same cologne as him. That flight attendant over there had his eyes color. Harry also owned a similar cardigan as the man a few seats away from her. It was like he was everywhere, even if he wasn’t here. This got Y/N wondering if the past life’s her had put a curse on just Harry or herself as well. Clearly she was suffering too…

Her train of thoughts was derailed by the sound of her ringtone. They still had a few minutes left until all devices must be turned off, so she decided to check who was calling instead of turning off her phone. And the second Y/N saw his name lit up on her screen, she nearly cried. The girl covered her mouth to hide the tiny gasp in reaction to him calling her, which meant he had woken up, and he was okay. Thank God!

Y/N wanted to press answer right away but her finger stopped before it could touch the screen. Jeff might’ve told Harry about her leaving and he was probably calling to ask for an explanation which he deserved. But if she started talking to him, she wouldn’t be able to stop. And soon enough she would find herself coming back to Harry and consequently fucking up his life even more.

Maybe it won’t hurt if you just hear his voice one last time and then hang up…The voice inside her head talked to her, and she concluded that it was a good enough reason to answer the call. She did it quick so her brain wouldn’t interfere in the decision obviously made by her stupid little heart.

“Y/N? Love?”

Oh, if only he knew how hard she had to try not to burst into tears, not to say a single word and just listen to him on the other end of the line.

“I know you’re there.”

I’m here, love, I’m here.

“Say something please.”

I can’t.

There was a long pause. She was afraid he might hang up.

He didn’t though. He continued, “alright, if you’re not going to speak, just…please listen to me, don’t hang up.”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see her, then let Harry proceed on his own.

“I don’t know why you decided to leave, but I can’t try to get an answer out of you…knowing it would only make this harder for us both. I can’t ask you to take a chance with someone with a life as complicated as mine, it wouldn’t be fair…”

That’s not true. That’s not the reason why.

“I know…” she could hear him swallow hard as if the next thing he was gonna say had to be forced out of his mouth “…that you know about Lillie’s news…and I don’t expect you to still want me after that.”

Jeff told him? How could he tell Harry?

“Jeff didn’t tell me that, I found out on my own.” Harry chuckled, leaving Y/N surprised for he’d just read exactly what was on her mind. “In fact, Jeff doesn’t even know I’m calling you. He might think it would be for the best if—if I just let you go…Maybe he’s right. I can’t do that though, not before I tell you this.”

Don’t tell me anything, please. I can’t handle that right now.

“If the baby’s mine I’ll take good care of it, but nothing’s going to change between Lillie and I. We’re over for good. Because I don’t love her anymore…I love you.”

At this point, Y/N didn’t care if the man sitting next to her found it weird that she was quietly sobbing into the palm of her hand right before the plane took off. All she cared was how broken Harry’s voice was when he stated for the second time that he loved her despite the impossibility of them meeting again.

In fear of her hanging up before he could finish, Harry went on, “this may sound insane to you but I feel like I’d known you long before we met. You’re always on my mind and I see you in my dreams and I wake up hurting to know you’re not there. I guess love is just not for someone like me, but I swear I have this feeling that we do belong together and that…that…”

He paused and took a deep breath, just like that, leaving that sentence forever unfinished.

“You made your decision, so I have no other choice except for letting you go. But…if I could choose, I’d always choose you, love. Always.”

She ended the call as soon as he’d said the last word. With her phone held close to her heart and her face turned to the window, her tears started streaming down.

So their story was officially over in this lifetime she guessed. Once again, they didn’t end up together and he couldn’t be the biggest love of her life. This was probably the only way for them to get their happy ending.

But…if they didn’t end up together, was there a happy ending after all?

#harry styles #in another life series #reincarnation!au #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagines #soulmate!Harry #prince!harry #assistant!y/n #witch!y/n

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marigoldbaker · 6 years ago

Text

very really married (6/?)

read it on ao3!

“That sounded like a really bad come-on, didn’t it?”

“Not quite as terrible as introducing yourself to a gentleman with I’m really not interested,” said Giles innocently.

Jenny raised her head, giving him a crooked smile. “Hey,” she said. “I married you, didn’t I?”

finally just like. buckled down n finished another chapter in a 3 hr writing spree. i like to think this means i’m feeling better? :D

Getting out of the car, Giles caught sight of a new and very pretty substitute teacher stepping out of a taxi, one who appeared to be creating quite the stir among the boys playing Frisbee in the front courtyard. Rolling his eyes a little, he crossed around to open the door for Jenny, who—was giving the substitute the once-over. Good lord.

“We’re married,” he said.

“So?” said Jenny, not even bothering to look at him. “I could have an affair. Hey, Rupert, that’s how we get divorced!” She beamed up at him as though thinking herself an absolute genius. “I seduce the unbelievably hot substitute, you find us in bed and throw a hissy fit—”

“Thank you, no,” said Giles, thoroughly bothered by how very little he appreciated this concept. “We’ve not been married a month—”

“Oooh, hey, it’ll be our monthiversary tomorrow,” said Jenny brightly, slipping her hand into his as they began to walk. “Gotta think of something to do to celebrate—oh, there’s Buffy!”

Giles blinked. Buffy was getting out of a car near them. “Jenny,” he began, about to rattle off an excuse that might allow him to speak to Buffy alone.

“Hey, Buffy,” said Jenny, a strange lightness to her voice as she tugged Giles to meet Buffy by the car, “I know it’s not my business, but word on the street is you’re talking to a guy named Angel?”

This was the exact last thing that Giles had expected Jenny to say. He stared first at her, then at Buffy, who was looking at him with wide, indignant eyes. “Well, don’t look at me, I didn’t tell her,” he said, holding up his hands.

“I mean, yeah,” said Buffy cagily, “he and I talk. Why?”

Jenny hesitated, then said, “He’s not—he isn’t dangerous, but I think you should exercise some caution, okay?”

“You know him?”

Jenny hesitated again. “Not directly.”

Buffy looked again at Giles, like she expected him to know something about this. Helplessly, Giles said, “I—Jenny, how did you know about Angel? Buffy’s only mentioned him in passing.”

Jenny shrugged. “Word gets around,” she said evasively. Then, “Listen, Rupert, I have to run ahead and set up the lab. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Um—yes,” said Giles, still quite bemused.

Jenny gave him a quick, professional kiss on the cheek, then hurried on ahead, stopping by a nearby bench to say hello to Willow.

“You said you didn’t know Angel!” said Buffy indignantly. “And now your wife’s telling me he’s bad news?”

“I don’t know Angel,” said Giles, watching Jenny with a frown. “Frankly, Buffy, I’m as surprised as you are. She’s never mentioned Angel.”

“That’s kinda weird,” said Buffy, tilting her head at him. “How come your wife knows Angel’s bad news but she never told you?”

The truth was, of course, that Giles and Jenny barely knew each other, but telling Buffy this would mean telling Buffy about the mess that was their marriage. Now that Giles knew Buffy, he knew that telling Buffy about his marriage might open him up for a world of teasing. And that was the best-case scenario. “Jenny can be a bit secretive at times,” he said finally. “I do my best not to pry.”

Buffy frowned a little, but the answer seemed to satisfy her. “Okay,” she said. “It’s just that it’s kinda weird timing. I was just about to tell you that I saw Angel again last night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Buffy, and began explaining what, exactly, Angel had warned her about.

But Giles’s mind was still on Jenny, and not in the pleasantly aggravating way. Angel had indeed given them some unusual and helpful information, enough to make it clear that he was rather involved in the supernatural scene. Jenny knowing him, and knowing something about him, might indicate that Jenny knew more about what really went on in Sunnydale than Giles had previously expected.

He wasn’t entirely sure whether or not this could be counted as a good thing.

The day progressed as it generally did until thirty minutes into the lunch period. Giles and Jenny were having a surprisingly good-natured argument regarding the merits of iced tea, and then the library doors opened and Buffy stumbled through, shaken and sniffling. She was closely followed by a similarly upset Willow and Xander, the latter looking vaguely nauseated.

Jenny turned, smiling, but her smile faded as she registered their faces. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

Buffy swallowed, hard, then said in a small voice, “They found—Doctor Gregory—in the freezer.”

Giles’s first thought was god, I hope I misheard. “What?”

“Just his body,” said Buffy. “His head’s missing.” She crossed the room in two steps, all but falling to sit on the stairs leading into the stacks.

Next to Giles, Jenny drew in a shaking breath, gripping the library counter to steady herself. Giles, feeling a bit sick, looked to Willow and Xander. “Are you two all right?” he asked gently.

“No,” said Willow in a small voice. “I don’t like this, Giles.”

“Frankly, neither do I,” said Giles, attempting to laugh. It didn’t really work. “Sit down, all right? I’ll get you both some—something to drink. What—that is, how did you find out?”

“We, uh, saw,” said Xander uncomfortably. “The body.”

Jenny’s eyes widened. “God,” she said softly, and, without hesitation, hurried over to kneel in front of Buffy, awkwardly squeezing her shoulder. “Are you okay? Stupid question, you’re not okay. Okay. Hold up. God, I’m bad at comforting people.”

Buffy sniffle-laughed. “No, you’re doing okay,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “You’re really nice, you know that? Giles totally hit the jackpot with you.”

Jenny grinned a little exhaustedly, looking up at Giles. “You could say he…gambled and won,” she said, and that made Giles almost laugh outright. It didn’t seem at all apropos, under the circumstances, so he bit his lip instead.

“I think they’re holding a little memorial service after school,” said Willow distantly. “I think I kinda want to go to that.”

“We’ll probably go too,” said Jenny, pulling herself to her feet. “He was a good guy.” She brushed off her skirt, awkwardly readjusting herself, but she still looked a bit discombobulated. Understandable, Giles thought, given the news they had just heard. “I should probably set up my class,” she said. “Figure out what to tell my students.”

“Probably don’t lead with they found Doctor Gregory in the freezer,” said Buffy dismally. “Wasn’t my best entrance.”

“You were under a lot of stress, Buffy, you’re completely okay,” said Jenny patiently.

Buffy’s face instantly softened, and Giles felt a twinge of irritation at that; he’d been getting argumentative glares and determinedly bouncy quips from Buffy, but never that absolutely adoring trust. His logical side was pointing out that, in comparison to his own strict, disciplinarian ways, Jenny was most certainly a nurturing breath of fresh air, but his rational side was pointing out that calling Jenny a breath of fresh air was ridiculous when she had once locked him out of the house during an argument and then acted like that counted as winning.

And—and anyway, it was all ridiculous. Buffy wasn’t going to look at her Watcher like he was a mentor, she was going to look at him like he was a teacher. The difference had been stressed many a time by Travers, and it was particularly pertinent now. Obviously.

Then Buffy turned to Giles. “You have a nice wife,” she said in a small voice, then, “Can I have that thing to drink?”

“Of course,” said Giles. “Jenny—”

Jenny stepped back over to him and pressed a butterfly-soft kiss to his cheek, one that reminded him of tangled sheets and plane rides and you’re not that bad a husband, Rupert Giles. He swallowed, hard. “You’d better not lose your head at any point during this day, Rupert, I’m serious,” she said, eyes locked on his. Glancing one last time at the children, she turned, heading out of the library.

“I’ll get that water,” said Giles, feeling a rather convoluted mess of emotions that he really couldn’t sort through at this juncture.

They stayed late for the memorial. Buffy had promised to go home and be reasonable, and Xander was still rather annoyingly enraptured by the lovely Miss French, but Giles, Jenny, and Willow all headed down to the faculty room, where Flutie was stumbling through an awkward, uncomfortable speech about Doctor Gregory that really didn’t capture any of his finer points.

“So this is what it’s gonna be like when this town inevitably kills me, huh?” said Jenny to Giles, quietly enough that Willow wouldn’t hear. “A bunch of people who didn’t know me sitting around and talking about how I was always diligent and never late.”

“Don’t talk like that,” said Giles. Something deep in his chest had twisted, hard, at the thought of this being Jenny’s memorial.

“Why not?” Jenny leaned against him, eyes distant. “Odds are we’re going to end up dead,” she said, half-laughing, but it was clear that she wasn’t really joking at all. “It’s mathematics, Rupert. There’s a murder every two days, half the time it’s a teacher—”

“That dead fellow in the gymnasium, that was four days ago—”

“There was still a dead guy in the gym.”

Giles took another look at Jenny, and felt, if possible, much worse. He’d been infuriated by her stubborn convictions, her optimism regarding technology, and her utter refusal to back down from any fight, but the tired, dispassionate look on her face was something he didn’t at all like seeing. “I’ll protect you,” he said, softly, stupidly.

She didn’t say anything, but she took his hand.

Jenny was quiet for the entire drive home. He turned on all the radio stations he knew she hated, but she didn’t rise to the bait and start an argument. She just stared out the window until they reached their house, and then she got out of the car, headed up the porch steps, and turned, waiting for him by the front door.

Giles didn’t like seeing her like this. Getting out of the car himself, he hesitated, then walked up and towards her, watching as she turned to unlock the door.

Their house felt strange, still, and rather unpleasantly lifeless. Jenny sat down on the couch without turning on the light, tipping her head back and staring at the ceiling. Giles turned on a nearby lamp and sat down next to her. “If there’s anything I can do,” he began.

Jenny turned to look at him. “I kind of want to leave,” she said, but she said it distantly and without much conviction. “Can we do that? Can we just—pack up, go to England, meet your parents, live in a dumb cottage by the sea where there are no creepy deaths and no missing heads? I want to do that. Let’s do that.”

Giles reached out and squeezed her shoulder. She looked at him, mouth trembling. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go to England.”

“Okay,” Jenny whispered. She didn’t move.

Giles was quite tempted to pull her into his arms and hold her, if only because she looked so uncharacteristically fragile. But he didn’t feel quite ready to be rebuffed, so he said instead, “What do you need, Jenny?”

To his complete surprise, Jenny tackled him in a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. “I hate this town,” she said, her voice shaking. “I hate every single part of this town. Doctor Gregory was one of the nicest teachers on staff, and now I’ve gotta deal with the fact that literally anyone I know might be dead in two days, and—and I’m scared. And I hate being scared. And I hate that you’re being so nice right now.”

“Would you like me to be terrible about something?” Giles asked weakly, hugging Jenny back.

“I don’t know,” said Jenny helplessly. “I just want some kind of fucking normalcy. I mean, god, we’re hugging right now, and this morning I was contemplating pouring syrup all over one of your rarest manuscripts to get you back for boxing up my computer again.”

“Oh,” said Giles, wincing. “I was hoping you hadn’t noticed that.”

Jenny exhaled, a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “For all your academic austerity,” she said, “you can be really, really stupid sometimes. I use my computer daily, Rupert, it’s important to me.”

“I mean, I’d use my desk daily if I had a desk,” said Giles before he could stop himself, then winced. “Um. Sorry. Do you still need gentle handling?”

“Use gentle handling in relation to me again and I will not-so-gently handle you straight into a broom closet,” said Jenny, then groaned. “That sounded like a really bad come-on, didn’t it?”

“Not quite as terrible as introducing yourself to a gentleman with I’m really not interested,” said Giles innocently.

Jenny raised her head, giving him a crooked smile. “Hey,” she said. “I married you, didn’t I?”

“You did, at that,” said Giles, smiling too. Gently, he removed himself from her embrace. “Feeling better?”

“I—” Jenny blinked. “Kinda,” she said, sounding honestly surprised.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“You’re being so nice,” said Jenny, nose wrinkling. “It’s weird. Can you go back to being terrible and technophobic and rearranging the kitchen cupboards obsessively to hide my plates?”

“I contain multitudes,” said Giles, a mixture of touched and annoyed. “It’s not as though I can remove my better qualities just so you can pretend not to like me.”

“I don’t like you,” Jenny objected, then stopped, eyes widening in horror. “Oh, god,” she groaned, falling back into the couch. “Oh my god, I like you?”

“Clearly, you’re coming around,” said Giles, patting her shoulder. Jenny swatted his hand away, glaring. “If it helps,” he added, his grin fading, “I think I—like you too.” He winced. “God, that’s awful.”

Jenny bit her lip, grinning.

“What?”

“We finally agree on something,” said Jenny. “What are the odds?”

Giles smiled a little. Jenny smiled too. There was a quiet, charged feeling that hung in the air, enough to make him turn towards her on the couch. Of its own volition, Giles’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

“It’s nice,” said Jenny, her voice softening. “To have a friend.”

The word jerked Giles back into reality. Jenny was grappling with the horrors that surrounded her, and she was smart enough to recognize the possibility that one such horror might end up killing her. Lovely as it would be to move just a bit closer, it would be self-centered, selfish, and taking advantage of her need for comfort. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely. “Regardless of how often we find ourselves at each other’s throats, Jenny, I, I think you’re a rather incredible person.”

“Ugh,” said Jenny, making a face in what was a very clear attempt to disguise her blush. “Still not used to you doing the whole nice thing.”

“Hey, Giles?” Buffy poked her head into the library, then stepped up and around the checkout desk. “Can we talk for a sec? I saw something really weird while I was out in Weatherly Park—”

Giles frowned. “You went hunting last night,” he said stiffly.

“Yes,” said Buffy, unbothered.

“When you assured me you wouldn't,” said Giles pointedly, taking a sip from his cup of tea.

“Okay, I lied, I'm a bad person, let's move on,” said Buffy, waving a hand impatiently.

This bit of his life, at least, Giles was getting quite used to. Buffy did have a carefree approach to Slaying, but the fact remained that she always got the job done, and that fact made him much more willing to put aside Buffy’s disobedience. “Did you see someone with a fork?” he asked.

“More like a jumbo claw,” Buffy answered with distaste.

“Oh,” said Giles, and the image of Buffy, pale and weak on the chemistry lab table, flashed quickly and painfully across his mind. “Well, at least you're not hurt,” he managed.

“And I saw something else,” Buffy continued, not noticing Giles’s brief moment of discomfort. “Something much more interesting than your average run-of-the-mill killer vampire.”

“Oh?” said Giles.

Buffy hesitated. Then she said, “Do you know Miss French, the teacher that's subbing for Dr. Gregory?”

The name rang a bell. Miss French…that was the attractive substitute teacher who had caught Jenny’s eye. “She’s not that attractive,” said Giles stiffly. He was suddenly thinking of Jenny’s suggestion of bedding the substitute and cheating on him with her, and yes, Jenny did joke about those things, but frankly it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Jenny would be attracted to such a lovely young woman over an austere, tweedy librarian—

“Um, interesting take,” said Buffy, looking like she was trying not to laugh. “Is this ‘cause you’re married and you don’t want to talk about other ladies if your wife might hear?”

“Ooh, now seems like the perfect time to make my entrance,” said Jenny, sounding thoroughly amused herself. Giles jumped. “Honey,” said Jenny patiently, “I brought you tea, stop looking like I caught you making out with the substitute teacher.”

This was so utterly unfair. “Making out—” Giles sputtered.

And then Jenny stood on tiptoe, still holding the tea carefully in one hand, and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to the corner of Giles’s mouth. The soft brush of her mouth against his was so startling in its intimacy that Giles found himself speechless when she pulled away.

“Tone it down, you two,” said Buffy, “I am still here,” but there was a giggle in her voice.

Jenny had looked quite confident, leaning in, but as she pulled away, she was beginning to blush. “I, um, you should, I should—okay,” she managed, looking a little stunned, and left, completely forgetting that she was still holding Giles’s tea.

“God, you two are such newlyweds,” said an amused Buffy. “It’s nauseating.”

She’d kissed him. She’d kissed him. She’d kissed him. She’d kissed him.

“Uh, earth to Giles?” said Buffy pointedly. “We were talking about Miss French?”

Giles did his best to compose himself, running through all the logical reasons why he should not be so hopelessly flustered. Jenny’s kiss had made sense, within the context: a teasing gesture between husband and wife. Public displays of affection were necessary to support the illusion of their marriage. And her blush…was because…why on earth had she blushed? Jenny Calendar, unflappably composed…had blushed because she’d kissed him?

Buffy cleared her throat.

“Yes, um, Miss French,” said Giles a little too loudly, blushing furiously. “What about her?”

Miss French was a giant insect. This rang quite a few alarm bells when paired with Carlyle’s claims back in Oxford about some insect-woman who preyed on the pure of body. Giles was hanging up the phone, rather exhausted by the arduous process of getting coherent information out of his old friend, when Jenny stepped in, shutting the door behind her. He looked up, startled, then said, “Um, I-I realize it is a bit late—”

“Can you just, I don’t know, give me a schedule for your little study group thing?” There was clear frustration in Jenny’s tone. “I didn’t want to drive home without telling you, but you had the library closed for maintenance sign up, and you get all weird if I interrupt you while you’re in the middle of reorganizing—”

“I—what?” Giles blinked, then blushed. “You—noticed?”

“See? Weird.” Jenny waved a hand at him. “It’s been three hours, Rupert. Which ended up being okay, since I had some papers to grade, but not every night is gonna be like this. If this thing is going to work, we need to at least communicate our plans to each other a little.”

“I’m sorry,” said Giles.

Jenny stared at him. A moment passed before she said, “You’re sorry?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” said Giles a bit testily. Talking to Carlyle had been stressful, and it was extremely likely that Xander was under the thrall of a giant praying mantis, and he didn’t have time for whatever the hell Jenny’s problem was with him being sorry.

“It’s just that you don’t usually apologize to me,” said Jenny stiffly, an embarrassed flush rising in her cheeks. Too late, Giles realized that he’d misinterpreted her. “It’s not—look, just, just get me a schedule for your study group thing, I’ll go, okay? Obviously you’re stressed and me being here isn’t helping even a little—”

Giles caught her hand in his before she could leave.

The door was shut, he thought. There was no possible way he could explain this to her if she asked. No one was watching, no one knew they were arguing, and there was no reason to take her hand, rubbing his thumb quietly against the side of her finger. “I am sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I’m not pleasant company at this time of night, especially not when I’m working overtime. I’ll get you that schedule, Jenny, and—and I’ll pick you up something nice from the supermarket. Frozen pizza? Microwave meal?”

Jenny’s eyes were very wide. Worried that he had overstepped, Giles tried to drop her hand, but she was holding on tight. “Yeah, okay,” she said.

There was a hammering on the door. “GILES!” Buffy shouted. “Giles, we need your help with the mantis—”

“He’s in there with Ms. Calendar!” Giles heard Willow hiss.

“Uh—” Giles could all but hear Buffy’s mind working overtime to come up with a plausible excuse. “Mantis—um, project! For science! Because Ms. French is talking about insects in class!”

“Fitting, really,” said Giles a bit derisively.

Jenny gave him an amused look. “You really don’t like that poor, pretty teacher, huh?”

The phrase poor, pretty teacher didn’t seem to fit a giant insect that was most likely eating virgins, but Giles couldn’t very well tell Jenny this. “Well, you seem to like her enough for the both of us,” he shot back, and was mortified to find that he was blushing.

Jenny’s little grin faded, replaced with a slow comprehension. “Wait,” she said. “Is this because I said I wanted to sleep with Ms. French?”

“What—it—the—” Giles stammered. “That’s—”

Jenny looked down, very clearly trying to hide her smile. “Rupert, I’m a married woman,” she said. “And I’ve never been the type to cheat on people, even if I am the type to joke about it. We made a sacred vow, remember?”

“A drunken vow,” said Giles quietly.

“A vow’s a vow no matter how you slice it,” said Jenny, and her other hand moved to lightly rest on his shoulder.

Just as Giles was about to place his free hand over hers, Buffy slammed the door open with all her Slayer strength, nearly hitting him in the back of the head. “Giles,” she said, “as great as it would be if we all had time for you to be lovey-dovey with your wife, I seriously need your help right now.”

Giles felt certain that he was smiling rather foolishly. Softly, he said, “You’re quite right, Jenny. A vow is a vow.”

“Giles!” said Buffy. “Mantis! Okay, you know what, Ms. Calendar?” She moved forward, tugging Jenny bodily away from Giles. “You are a bona fide distraction,” she was saying, steering Jenny out of the library, “and as cool as that is when we want Giles a dorky, swoony mess, we really need him teaching us stuff right now, so thank you so much and please come again when he tells me not to put my feet on the table.”

“You’re making a pretty valid point there,” said an amused Jenny, gently extricating herself from Buffy’s grip. “See you at home, Rupert?”

“Much so,” said Giles, who wasn’t quite able to form words at the moment.

“Yeah, cool,” said Jenny, her smile softening as she looked at him.

“They’re doing that weird married thing again,” said Buffy knowledgably to Willow, and pulled Jenny all the way out of the library.

Jenny was reading a book on the couch when Giles came back from fighting the mantis, and hissed through her teeth when she saw him, shutting the book and getting up immediately to place a hand gently on his cheek. “What happened?”

Giles blinked. “What?” Belatedly, he remembered scrambling against the floor for the tape. “Oh, um—do I look bad?”

“There’s a scrape down the side of your face,” Jenny informed him, giving him a bemused frown. “Did you just not notice?”

“In my line of work, one gets used to quite a lot of pain,” said Giles without thinking.

Jenny snickered, then pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to compose herself. “Sorry,” she managed. “Just, uh—you’re really out there fighting the good fight, huh? Dodging stacks of falling books, bandaging papercuts, making sure you don’t climb too high on the bookshelves?”

“Indeed,” said Giles, and grinned a bit himself. If one assumed that his job didn’t extend beyond that of a librarian, his description of it was quite amusing. “If you don’t mind, I’ll, um, go patch myself up—”

“Sit down so I can fix your face,” said Jenny, in a tone that allowed for no argument.

“Yes, dear,” said Giles without thinking, then blushed. His cheek stung.

As Jenny rummaged through the kitchen cabinets for the first-aid kit, Giles sat down, watching her and feeling something strange in his chest. This was now the third time she had patched him up without question, and the first time in his life that someone had consistently done so for him. Not all of this could truly be chalked up to her trying to prove she could pretend to care about him. He was beginning to get the very strong sense that this kind of care was something that Jenny did for people, just because she could, and that was…admirable.

To say the least.

“Okay, so I’ve got a wet cloth and some extra soapy water,” Jenny announced, rounding the corner with a dish and placing it down on the coffee table. Giles’s favorite teapot was filled to the brim with said soapy water. Jenny saw the expression on his face, then winced, genuinely apologetic. “Should I not have used that one for first-aid stuff? I just—yours were all up front, I didn’t want to keep you waiting just to prove I wanted to use mine—”

“Um, no, it’s, it’s fine,” said Giles, blushing more, which made his cheek feel even worse. “Just—this is very kind of you, Jenny, thank you.”

“Sure,” said Jenny, giving him a small smile as she pressed the cloth to his cheek. Involuntarily, Giles closed his eyes at her touch; though he was beginning to get accustomed to gentle touches, he still wasn’t quite able to stop himself from savoring them. He had been very alone this last decade.

Jenny’s hand wasn’t moving. Giles opened his eyes and saw that she was looking at him with shy apprehension. “I’m not usually this close to people,” she explained awkwardly. “It’s easier when we—I mean, when you—” She made a squiggly gesture with her free hand, then finished sheepishly, “Had a whole bunch of hot sex without knowing each other.”

“Ah,” said Giles, and tried not to laugh.

Jenny huffed. “It’s not funny!”

“No, it’s—it’s sweet,” said Giles, and meant it. He felt all fluttery, knowing that Jenny knew him—not the Watcher bits, but the important bits. The parts of him that counted. “If it helps, I’m a bit off-kilter myself.”

“From the terrible book that attacked you?”

“Oh, completely,” said Giles. “I am a delicate man, Jenny.”

“I’m aware,” said Jenny, and he felt her fingers splay against his cheek, cupping his face like he was something precious. He had never been looked at like this before—as though he was worth protecting—and though he was certain that Jenny couldn’t possibly still be thinking about protecting him, it was what he felt under the quiet, determined intensity of her gaze.

Just as he had become fully aware of how very close their faces were, Jenny startled, then began scrubbing gracelessly at his cheek with the wet cloth. “Ow,” said Giles. “You could—be gentler, Jenny.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” said Jenny in a high voice, and turned her haphazard scrubbing into light patting. “God, sorry, just—sorry.”

“It’s all right,” said Giles, unable to keep a chuckle out of his voice. Jenny gave him an annoyed, good-natured smile in return.

“You and Ms. Calendar are so cute,” Buffy informed him the next day. “When did you two get married?”

“Over the summer,” said Giles, which was mostly the truth, “and I am not in the habit of discussing my personal life with my Slayer.” The abashed look on Buffy’s face made him immediately regret his cover-up, and he flushed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was harsh.”

“No kidding,” said Buffy, who looked rather injured by the brush-off.

Her genuine hurt made guilt twist in Giles’s stomach. She had asked a real question; she deserved a real answer. “It’s just that marital commitment is very new to me,” he said. “It isn’t something I’ve had much practice with, and it’s a bit frightening to get used to.” He glanced over at the open door to the computer lab as they passed. Jenny was laughing with a student, chatting about some homework assignment, and as she raised her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, her wedding ring caught the sunlight. “A Watcher is supposed to spend his entire life alone,” he said. “Getting married is…a foolish, foolhardy thing to do.”

“I think it’s really brave,” said Buffy.

Giles stopped walking, turning to look at her. Buffy gave him this small, almost sad smile. “Her connection to me could end up hurting her,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, but you guys love each other,” said Buffy. “And let’s face it, Giles, this thing we’re doing is going to end up with both of us dead way before we’re supposed to be. You could have spent your whole life like my first Watcher, just thrown yourself into books and prophecies and stuff, but you’d never have ended up getting to be with someone as cool and funny as Ms. Calendar. She makes you super happy, and that’s…really, really awesome.”

There was a note of wistfulness to her voice, as though Buffy wished she could do things like grow up and get married. And it hurt, all of a sudden, to know that Buffy was wrong about him; that this facsimile of a marriage was the closest Giles would get to wedded bliss. It didn’t seem fair for him to be her beacon of hope, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the look in her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find that same happiness someday,” he said instead, and in much more gentle a tone than he usually used with Buffy.

It felt…right, somehow, to speak to Buffy like this. Better than the determinedly professional demeanor he’d been attempting, at least. The feeling of rightness solidified when he saw the sadness in Buffy’s eyes—not disappear, not exactly, but lessen. “You think?”

“I’m certain of it,” said Giles. “If a stuffy old academic can land a woman like Jenny Calendar, your prospects are sparkling.”

That made Buffy laugh.

#fic #very really married #may or may not have put off dinner till 10:50pm to get this done :/#But It Was Really Worth It Ok

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gascon-en-exil · 6 years ago

Text

I Liked Fates Before It Was Cool!: The Opening

Prologue

Here begins my run of Fates, in which I react to things that I believe merit either praise or criticism and that hopefully haven’t been thoroughly picked over yet hundreds of times by everyone else in the fandom. I’ll be doing each route in the sequence I used last time, with gameplay details to follow as they come up. To answer @damoselcastel, I’ll be doing an all-male run, and it does indeed suck that the game screws this over a bit at the very beginning by forcing me to take Felicia over Jakob first. Breeding will come when I feel like it, more to have extra chapters to play through than anything.

Prologue

In what I assume will continue to be a series trend going forward, all of the 3DS FEs open somewhat in the abstract, including a flash forward to a future event. Fates’s particular take is both the most surreal and the least dependent on shock value, as the events it depicts are only several chapters away rather than near endgame. Azura picks up her Lady of the Lake associations right from the start, there’s a very early glimpse at what will be eventually revealed to be Valla, and Ryoma and Xander and Xander’s ludicrously acrobatic horse square off to set up this setting’s central conflict. The chapter proper is (fittingly) dreamlike, with surreal music and a high-energy scenario that begins in medias res and doesn’t entirely follow the normal rhythms of FE combat. I have absolutely no idea how this would come across to a newcomer to the series - I got my hand held through Lyn Normal Mode, cut me some slack - but I imagine it would be disorienting.

Chapter 1

That’s apparently official concept art of Nohr. Reasonable worldbuilding, what’s that?

The in-game presentation starts off rather less absurd. Hell, if it weren’t for the ominous castle rooftop setting of Xander’s training session one could almost find Corrin’s slice-of-life interactions with their servants and their Nohrian family quaint. Xander is just a drama queen like that. This fight calls back to Path of Radiance and New Mystery, which also start off with training sessions against significantly more powerful named characters. For Birthright it also forms a narrative bookend, but I’ll get to that in due time. I have Feelings about the presentation of Xander...and not just because he’s my husbando either.

I like that Corrin’s retainers are domestics first and combatants second unlike those of the other royals, because it stresses that they’ve been isolated in a non-combat role during their upbringing, their exposure to Nohr’s allegedly spartan military culture limited to sparring with Gunter and Xander. I have no idea how that would be enough for them to survive when they evidently live in Mordor, but then Nohr is the source of the most consistently sloppy worldbuilding in Fates so at least we get that established right away.

Oh, and Lilith is here. There’s never a point anywhere in this game where Lilith’s character is competently handled, so I have a tendency to forget she exists unless she’s on-screen. Here she’s just an unassuming stable girl with an unusual design, and Elise makes an incestuous insinuation in her direction that’s only funny if you played the appropriate DLC.

Chapter 2

Structural contrast with the towering Hoshidan royal palace aside, I don’t entirely get how Krakenberg works. A dragon did it?

Anyway, Corrin gets an under-explained and clearly evil magical sword from his shamelessly homicidal father only to balk at the thought of killing anyone with it. Leo salvaging this faux pas isn’t the silliest example of Corrin not understanding the basic concept of lying - it’s presumably easier to fake someone’s death with magic than with a giant sword - but it’s definitely up there. The Nohrian royals on the other hand have no trouble with such things based on their traumatic but mostly implied experiences at court. Important to note that everyone here up to and including the prisoners of war calls out Corrin for their sheltered worldview; their development from here on out really is dependent on the player’s choice of route. I vastly prefer this approach to Awakening’s for explaining why the Avatar is such a relatively blank slate - almost no amnesia necessary this time.

And while they appear in most chapters, I want to praise Dragon Veins here for being a really cool concept that doesn’t get as much love as it should. Draconic or otherwise superhuman bloodlines in FE are usually expressed in gameplay with the ability to wield certain legendary weapons, and while that also makes an appearance in Fates Dragon Veins represent more dramatically visible utility. They really make a difference in some chapters, and I’d like to see them reuse the concept in future games where it would be a logical addition (which would be most of them since humans with dragon blood pop up all over this series).

Chapter 3

I chose this image because I want everyone to appreciate as I do that Hans dresses like the world’s most tasteless leatherman. A harness and straps that show off all the wrong bits, and it’s in purple. Not even the overall weirdly fetishistic look of this game’s berserkers can excuse that.

But aside from that, Hans sucks. Iago also sucks. Less characters than plot devices that pop up whenever there’s a need for someone to act completely despicable to move the conflict along, there’s no way to spin them in a way that sounds like they contribute anything positive to the narrative. Case in point: in this chapter Hans single-handedly reignites hostilities between Nohr and Hoshido by Leeroy Jenkins-ing his way through the chapter and later (possibly) killing Gunter, with the only interesting caveat that he claims to have done so at Garon’s behest. And sure, Garon is also flat over-the-top villainy incarnate, but he at least has gravitas and a master playing a long game that arguably succeeds in two of the routes. Hans and Iago are just two more in the line of FE villains with flat motivations and personalities who lack even the good grace to be attractive, but unlike Desaix and Darin and Chagall and others like them they stick around in the story long after they’ve worn out their welcome. Did Nohr really need not one but three flat antagonists in its ranks around for most of the game?

I haven’t even gotten into the first appearance of Camilla’s...issues surrounding Corrin or whatever the dimension-hopping hell Lilith pulls with her invocations to presumably deceased dragon “gods” now that she reveals her true form. This is really the first chapter to offer a hint of how disjointed and frequently contrived Fates’s stories are going to end up, saved only by the very end when Rinkah puts this game’s new blunt weapon category to its logical use. Not like the game wants us to feel bad for Corrin....

Chapter 4

...because Hoshido is paradise. And also Takumi.

Everyone knows the story, both as it’s explicitly told and as can be read through the lines. The writers weren’t afraid to let their biases show, the localizers and the Western fandom did a fair amount to mitigate that with some bias of our own, and the final product is one big mess that fails to make logical sense in-universe and teeters on the edge of real-world two-way racism. Here we’re introduced to Castle Shirasagi, glimmering and verdant and awash in cherry blossoms, as well as Azura, Corrin’s foil in Stockholm Syndrome. But it’s all good, because Mikoto is tranquil and peace-loving and enforces her tranquility through a plot contrivance magical barrier that is just one of many examples in Fates of magic not working the way it does in the rest of the series (or at least I can’t think of anything else like this, correct me if I’m wrong). We don’t learn just why Nohr is so hellbent on invading Hoshido that they’d resort to summoning soulless monsters to do so until much later (and only in Birthright of all routes!). For now they just sound like unprovoked aggressors, and the Hoshidan royals Corrin’s true and loving family.

However, what I really wanted to bring up for this chapter is how oddly it’s structured, such that it never fails to throw me off a bit. It opens in an unnamed Fire Tribe village in a snowy area of Hoshido, which might I mention is the only point in the game we see anything of the Fire Tribe other than Rinkah herself. Considering all the time we spend in multiple routes with the Wind and Ice Tribes, that lack of detail strikes me as peculiar. Kaze then brings Corrin to the Hoshidan palace where Ryoma and Mikoto reveal the truth, then it’s immediately back to the snowy north to rescue Hinoka and Sakura from Faceless before returning to the palace to meet Azura. Was there any reason the Faceless fight couldn’t have happened before Corrin left the village, and the reveal and trip to Shirasagi left for after the chapter map and partially in response to Hinoka’s OOC crying fit?

I also hate maps where high-powered NPCs go around stealing kills. Kaze barely got to see any action this chapter, poor guy.

Chapter 5

Props to this manakete design, which is unlike anything else in the series and manages to work in elements of Anankos and Corrin’s weird outfit. No props to the scripting of the thing, as after this chapter Corrin may as well not even be a mankete except for gameplay purposes (which are minimal anyway unless you need them to tank something). You’d think learning that you can turn into a dragon would leave more of an impact on...anyone really, but nope. I guess it technically becomes relevant again in Kana’s paralogue, but that’s as tangential and ultimately irrelevant as everything else involving the kids.

There’s a lot else going on in this chapter, but I’m sorry to say that neither Mikoto’s death nor the obliteration of a large chunk of Hoshido’s capital lands as powerfully as they were meant to considering Corrin and the audience have spent all of 1.5 chapters with these people. This isn’t anything like Elbert or Greil’s death scene or even remake!Rudolf’s for that matter - at least that one came with a shocking twist that was responded to appropriately. It’s hard to even appreciate these events from the perspectives of the Hoshidan royals because they’re still pretty new characters in the player’s mind, though with the hindsight of Conquest I can maybe sympathize with Takumi here at the beginning of his downward spiral.

Corrin also picks up their legendary sword in a way that feels extremely random. I guess the Yato was inside the statue that got blown up? Weird place to keep a divine peace-bringing relic, that’s all I’m saying.

Branch of Fate

Despite some early warning signs and a few slight missteps, I’m happy to say that this story moment works. It’s a good thing that it does too, as this is the defining moment of FE14 in everything from its marketing to its game design to its core themes. The setup is rushed and tense and allows only Corrin, i.e. the intended player self-insert, full knowledge of the weight of the choice put before them, as none of the other royals are aware that they are all in a way family to the person they’re now abruptly forcing to pick a side. Familial connections (biological or otherwise) may not be a narrative hook that grabs me personally, but nonetheless this scene sticks with you. There is no easy choice, and the consequences of any of them immediately define the direction of the story.

This is not to say that all three of the iterations of Chapter 6 that follow succeed equally well, but that’s for other posts...including the next one, which will kick off Birthright.

Next time: Birthright Chapter 6 - 11

#Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem Fates #FE14

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randomfandomimagine · 7 years ago

Text

Sunshine in the Moonlight. Chapter 17: The Truth Revealed

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Pairing: Prompto x Alexandria (OC)

Previous Chapter - Chapter Index - Next Chapter

Wattpad - AO3

I wandered around the maze-like building for what felt like hours. I was starting to get truly frightened that I was lost forever and I wouldn’t be able to find a way back. I walked alone, mumbling words of encouragement under my breath in an attempt to give myself the courage to continue, speaking the reassuring words I needed to hear despite the fact that I myself was the one uttering them.

‘You’re alright, you’re almost there’

‘Prompto is alive, you’ll find him soon’

‘Your friends are all alright, you just need to find them’

‘It will be over soon’

Hallway after hallway, it felt like it could be the last. Like a daemon or an MT could lunge at me any moment and it would be the end for me. I had no weapons and no way of defending myself other than with my bare hands, which was no use against daemons or MTs.

Every single noise made me paranoid, whether it was the flickering sound of a distant light or my own breathing if it came out too loudly. Not to mention the unidentified noises in the distance. Every single movement at the corner of my eye was a deathly threat. Even when it was nothing but my own shadow or simply a reflection. Monsters could be lurking at every corner, prepared to kill me at any second.

Ardyn was not done playing with me, as I would often see apparitions of Prompto running ahead of me. The first few times I did not hesitate to chase after him, calling his name and begging him to stop and come with me. He was cruelly giving me hope merely to violently take it away from me seconds after. I did not fall for that trick anymore, knowing the figure of Prompto in the distance was Ardyn’s making.

After that, it was his voice. Coming from within the walls, whispering and creeping. ‘Alex!! Help me, please!’ it would say. Imitating his voice to perfection. The same cadence, the same tone and high-pitch. The same urgency. The first time I ran off to his aid, promising I would rescue him and assuring everything was alright. And so I did the second time. And the third time. Not the fourth. That wasn’t Prompto’s voice. It was Ardyn’s illusions. Again.

Hopeless, I sat down and rested my back against a wall, bawling my eyes out as I pressed my hands against my ears. Ardyn was messing with my head again. I lost track of time as I sat there, broken and completely falling apart. Only three thoughts occupied my mind, shifting from one to the other without giving me a break.

One. ‘I hope my friends are okay, I hope Noct and Iggy and Gladio are safe.’

Two. ‘I hope Prompto is alive. I hope he knows we’re coming. I hope he holds on for just a little bit longer.’

Three. And quite possibly the one that burned the strongest. ‘I hate Ardyn.’

‘I. Hate. Ardyn. With a bloody burning passion.’

One thought replaced the other, and then the last one just to come back full circle.

I swayed back and forth as I tried to calm myself once I felt the starting phases of a panic attack haunting me. No, I refused to go through that again. I needed to breathe. Deep breaths. My hands were shaking, my back hit the wall with force, almost hurting me. I didn’t care.

Desperately needing to let out all that pent up anger and frustration, I screamed out at the top of my lungs. My throat felt sore and raspy afterwards, yet I felt better.

I breathed out unevenly, but focused on normalizing my breathing. At least my speeding heart was slowing its pace as well. Little by little, deep breaths.

“Alexandria?” I looked up at the very distant and faint sound, almost to the point of being inaudible, of a vaguely familiar voice. My heart rate skipped a beat in the hopes that it wasn’t another trick.

Was it them? Was it really them? Could that have been Ignis? The true Ignis?

I held my breath, staying deadly quiet to hear as best as I could.

“What was that, Iggy?” That sounded like Gladiolus as well.

I immediately quit my crying and slowly sat up straight. Those voices better not have been another one of Ardyn’s illusions.

“Please let it be them” I whispered to no one, yet finally saying something felt liberating after the distressing and loud silence I was immersed in for too long. “Them for real”

“I definitely heard something” Came a sober and accented voice that I was very familiar with.

“Which way?”

“Over here”

I stood up in shock and waited anxiously until two figures appeared from the corner. A lean tall one and a big burly one.

“Alex!” The latter one said with his deep voice as soon as he spotted me. “There you are, kid!”

I ran to reunite with them and eyed them up and down, still under the effect of the shock.

“Iggy, Gladio!” I touched them, making sure they were real, and chuckled a stupidly happy laugh when I confirmed they were. Then I hugged them both. “You’re actually here, you have not the faintest idea how glad I am to see you”

“You okay?” Gladiolus placed a finger under my chin and held my head up to take a closer look at my face. “You look awful”

“I’m fine” I blatantly lied, yet there was no time to waste. “Are you?”

“Yeah, considering”

“Where’s Noct?”

“I-I don’t know” I paused to take a deep breath and settle the nerves once I was back with friends. “We got separated, I’m sure it wasn’t a coincidence”

“The usual suspect” Ignis nodded, understanding the anger in my voice.

“We gotta find Noct” Gladio stated, very determined on his endeavor. We, of course, couldn’t agree more as we followed.

It felt like a miracle, but we found Noctis. We were back to being four, and we should be five again soon. I regained my hope seeing as we were finally making some progress. We must have been really close to finding Prom once and for all. Although, to balance my optimistic hope, I was also starting to feel the pessimistic anxiety stronger than ever in fear of the state we might find Prompto in.

We all walked in silence after navigating through even more numerous hallways. Until the moment arrived. The door opened to reveal a figure at the end of the hallway.

There he was, and hopefully it was not yet another one of Ardyn’s illusions. No matter how painful it was to see him as he was chained to some sort of strange apparatus that restrained him by the wrists and ankles.

Noctis gasped at the sight and hurried to get to him. I felt how my heart skipped a beat before it began to violently and frantically race.

Prompto’s head was hung low, but he weakly lifted it when he heard us approach him. He was alive. Prompto was alive and conscious, it was a start. His eyes squinted at the sudden light of our flashlights. There was a twinkle of hope in them.

I ran along with Gladio and Noctis to get to him and free him from that horrible thing that kept him bound, yet I froze upon a closer look.

I couldn’t move as I observed the scene before me in shock, too affected by the state Prompto was in to part take in his rescue. I was still trying to wrap my head around the concept that he was real and not another trick.

Luckily, Noctis managed to release him. He also held him to break his fall when the gravity violently pulled him down into the floor. I stood still, watching in horror. Poor Prompto was full of bruises, all over his arms, neck and face, staining his pale skin with reddish and purplish tones.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

Gladio and Ignis were also concerned about him, and even though I wanted nothing more than to ask myself and desperately cling to him I found incapable of doing so… I froze.

“I-I’m fine” Slowly and shakily, Prompto sat on the floor. “Thank you, Noct”

I fell to my knees next to him and comfortingly rubbed his arm, barely aware of what I was doing. It felt like I wasn’t in control of myself, like I was seeing reality through someone else’s eyes.

Prompto looked over to me and showed me a sad smile that surely meant to reassure me but didn’t quite had the desired effect. I didn’t blame him.

Noctis and Prompto exchanged a few words, yet my brain couldn’t truly register them no matter how hard I tried. Even if I could absently recognize the fondness and restlessness in Noctis’ expression as Prompto’s face was turned to him.

Just as the blond stood up, I automatically did too. My hands hovered in the air on their own when Prompto wobbled slightly as I was too afraid I would hurt him further to touch him.

I was slowly getting over the initial shock and calming my weary mind and racing heart, although many emotions still stirred within me: relief, sadness, grief, happiness, concern, anxiety…

“I’m sorry” Noctis was telling Prompto when I managed to focus enough to understand.

“Don’t be” The latter briefly glanced at us before settling back on his best friend and softly smiling at him. “Everything’s alright now”

That broke me, woke me up from my stupor. I startled them all when I shifted from my dazed stillness to a fidgety and frantic movement as I threw my arms around him and held him tightly from the side with a deranged squeak.

“Oh, Gods…” I gulped, taking notice of my ragged and irregular breaths. “P-Prompto, baby… W-What has he done to you?!”

I was still trying to get ahold of myself, but I… I just couldn’t.

I was still left astonished by the effect Prompto had on me. By how much his absence had affected me and how distraught I was by seeing him in that state. My love for him was far more powerful than I first thought. I needed him so much, I had been so terrified thinking about the possibilities of what might have happened to him. Yet now that he was standing there with me, alive and safe, I was not rendered in a state of relaxation as I first thought. Quite on the contrary, I felt myself shaking from head to toe as I desperately clung onto him. He was there, he was actually there, he was real. He was my sunshine. My home. And he was back.

“Hey, Xanders” He uttered in surprise, clumsily placing his hands on my back in a daze. “I-I’m okay”

I sobbed on his shoulder, tightly holding on to him because it felt like my trembling legs would give in under my own weight any moment. I internally screamed at myself to regain composure, yet I was aware of the fact that I needed a moment.

“I was so scared…” I mumbled against his shoulder, feeling light-headed. “So scared…”

Lovingly, Prompto’s arms squeezed me against him and his nose rested against my hair. He deeply breathed in, almost trying to replace those awful memories from the hell he had just been through with the feeling of being surrounded by his friends, from the warmth that my body radiated next to his. Very slowly and gently, his hands fell on my upper arm and distanced me from him. When we locked eyes, their softness brought me comfort. As did somehow the sad smile he dedicated me.

“It’s okay now”

“We…” Noctis awkwardly cleared his throat, reminding me that he was there as I had almost forgotten for an instant. “We should get going”

“Absolutely” I smiled happily once reunited with Prompto and took his hand with determination. “Lets”

Noct nodded and leaded the way, with Ignis and Gladio following closely. Prompto and I went after them in the rear. His fingers tightened their grip on mine, telling me that he was as willing to let go as I was. And I was absolutely not going to let go of his hand at all any time soon.

Upon arriving to a big circular room that hopefully would return Noctis’ powers as well as our own, we found that it was of course locked. We wandered around it, wondering where we could find the key that would let us in.

“Is there no way through?” Ignis complained, mildly restless.

“There’s a way” Prompto spoke up, although in a very low voice. Reluctantly and painfully slow, he let go of my hand. The four of us observed him puzzled as he positioned himself before the panel.

Prompto slowly raised his right arm until his wrist was close to the panel, which suddenly turned green with a low beeping noise. I watched him, completely speechless.

The wide doors opened, giving us free passageway inside the room.

“So… MTs… They’ve got those codeprints” Prompto said, his eyes glued to the panel in front of him as he hadn’t moved an inch. “Just like I do”

Again, Noctis was the one to intervene first.

“Do they? Never looked”

“Yeah” I noticed how Prompto’s right hand closed into a fist. “So as it turns out… I’m one of them”

His voice was shaky and low, almost fearful. I could read the terror in his eyes as he looked up to meet with Noct’s eyes. He was deliberately avoiding any of our glances except for his.

The information took a few more seconds to sink in completely, yet when it did it hit me like a pound of bricks. A nasty feeling in my gut arrived as the fear that Prompto might not be who I thought he was settled in my heart.

“Not exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis” His voice broke a little, and I could have sworn his blue eyes became watery. “Still… you guys are like… the only friends I’ve ever known. I just hope that things can stay the way they were”

I was torn between how much it pained me to see him standing there, looking so utterly heartbroken, and how tormented I was by such a discovery. I… was bewildered.

“Whatever” Noctis casually shrugged it off. “Who cares where you were born?”

“I don’t see you turning against us” Ignis comforted him too. “Not now, not ever”

I told myself I was being stupid. Of course they were right! What did a stupid codeprint on his wrist have to do with Prompto’s identity? He had shown us who he truly was during our journey together. Caring for us, making us laugh, blessing us with his constant smile… He was our friend. The bubbly, lovable, fidgety, caring and adorable gunman with a heart of gold, beautiful soul and a pure mind. He was the pretty boy with the bright smile and vibrant blue eyes. He was our Prompto, no matter what.

I opened my mouth to say something, yet the words didn’t leave my lips.

“Thanks, guys” Prompto let out, still with a cracking voice. “Still, I can’t change where I came from, what I am”

“Since when does where you come from matter to you?”

“Hm?” Completely flabbergasted, it was all Prompto managed to let out, raising his eyebrows.

“You never once treated me as a prince” Noctis smiled as he softly punched him in the shoulder, in a friendly gesture.

Ignis laughed a bit, endeared by his response.

“He’s got you there” Gladio added as well, coolly leaning against the wall.

“Never so much as a Highness”

“We’re done here” Noct playfully told Prom. “C’mon, Crown citizen”

Seeing as Noctis was entering the room, Gladio went over to help Ignis. Prompto merely stood in the spot, completely in awe.

“You’re one of us, right?” Gladio effusively patted his arm, making him wobble slightly as poor Prompto was still in shock.

“Unless you rather not be” Ignis added, stopping a brief moment to look in his direction.

“You’re still our Prompto” I managed to choke out through the nerves, forcing a natural smile at him as I nonchalantly walked into the room.

Once the five of us were together inside the circular room –apparently it was the throne room -, Noctis stabbed the sword on the wide control panel filled with lights, buttons and wires. That seemed to restore his power, as we all could conjure our weapons once again. It was a great relief, yet something else was on my mind.

‘You’re still our Prompto’. While those were meant to be words of encouragement and comfort, they felt quite… empty.

I always shared a close connection with Prompto, and now that we were a couple, our relationship was even more intimate. How was it then that I couldn’t get close to him?

My mind was shouting, saying that I wanted to take his hand again. Yet my body wouldn’t obey. It was a lot to take in, knowing the truth about Prompto.

As we made our way to the Crystal now that Prompto was safe, I remained quiet. Many thoughts piled up in my mind, keeping me busy and absent.

I could notice, however, Prompto’s sneaky glances. Every now and then he would look over his shoulder to me, his brow furrowed in apprehension. And every time I would be too afraid to hold his glance or smile at him in return.

I knew was hurting him with such demeanor, yet I was struggling so fiercely to dismiss any thoughts that Prompto wasn’t something different from what I knew he was. It was my main concern, and surely Ardyn’s manipulation played a great part in my perturbed state. I was too easily influenced by his lies. Yet that was all they were. Lies. The true Prompto was the one that I knew, the one standing before me. He was too genuine not to be, too authentic.

As I was about to exit the room we had walked through just like we had when navigating that place, someone held me by the arm and kept me back.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I had been too absent to notice Noctis was suddenly next to me.

“What?”

“You haven’t said a word, you need to tell him something” I immediately knew he was talking about Prompto. “You’re his girlfriend, dammit!”

I hated to admit it, but Noct was right. Prompto was probably questioning many things, and he felt especially insecure. He needed our words of comfort more than ever. Especially mine, I understood. I was positive that he noticed my reluctance and my cold demeanor no matter how hard I tried to conceal it.

“You’re right” I uttered, glancing at the blond. “I need to talk to him, don’t I?”

“Yeah” Noctis replied, as though it was obvious. “He’s still ‘our Prompto’, as you said, who the hell cares about all that crap?”

I smiled a little, realizing how true that was. How right Noct was. I had been silent, getting used to the idea, but… Indeed, Prompto had a barcode on his wrist, so? Nothing had changed, especially not him. And I thanked the Gods for that. Because Prompto was perfect, even with his flaws, as they were part of what made him so special and unique. He was still my Prompto, my sunshine. And I wanted to let him know, openly as I always did.

Noctis knew his best friend wouldn’t be quite content with such scarce words I had dedicated him before, and I found that neither was I.

“Prompto” I called him, feeling my voice hoarse because I had been quiet for so long.

Noct nodded to himself before walking away to give us some privacy.

“Yeah?” My boyfriend immediately turned around, apparently calm, even if he couldn’t conceal his surprise and anxiety. He had been waiting for that moment, yet was also dreading it.

“I’m sorry” I could read the fright in his eyes, so I hurried to finish talking before he could overthink what I meant by that. “I know I was distant, and I feel awful for making you feel like that, but I needed time”

“Did you, uh… Get enough time?” His voice was so soft, so low, it was unlike him.

“Yes”

“And?”

I walked closer to him to save any distance between us and very slowly put my arms around his form, locking them around his waist. I could feel his body tense against mine, even if our fronts were barely grazing. I knew he was doing a great mental effort not to flinch.

“Everything’s okay” I averted my eyes when I felt terribly ashamed of my previous behavior. “And I’m sorry to have put you through this, but I really needed the time to think, to… wrap my mind around it”

“Wh-“ He uttered, not really being able to articulate any further sounds.

I forced myself to look at him, even if I was still reluctant to meet with his beautiful eyes laced with hurt and sadness. I wished I had been fastest to react like my friends had. I supposed I was more sensitive and it had affected me more than I wanted to let on.

“I’ve… missed you, and I was worried about you and none of this changes those facts”

“But… I thought you would hate me…”

“Why?”

“Because… you said that you hated the Empire and anything that had to do with it”

That felt like a lifetime ago. Yet the memory was still fresh in my mind. Standing under the rain, heartbroken as we witnessed the ruins of our home. Finding out Insomnia had fallen and the king had died. Many things had happened since that day, much had changed. I had changed. And even if those words might have left a mark on Prompto’s head, I didn’t feel like that anymore.

Aranea was from the empire, yet she had showed where her alliances lied and proved to be a useful and important ally. In a similar way, even if Prompto technically was originally from there, even if he technically was an MT… It didn’t matter to me.

“You don’t have anything to do with the Empire, Prom” I softly smiled at him, tenderly and lovingly as well, gingerly caressing his cheek.

“But…”

“You don’t”

“So… you don’t hate me?”

I let out a frustrated and exasperated breath before I threw myself to him. He was always so insecure, so hesitant and self-conscious. Even though he was warm and bright like the sun, even when he was starting to become my entire world along with my friends.

I smacked my lips on his in a passionate kiss. But that wasn’t only a kiss. It was a sign that we craved such interaction, that we needed it to keep ourselves going. That we had been needing it ever since we were separated. That it was something obligatory in order to make things alright again.

I clung onto him and he clung onto me, taking our time to fill the void that had been eating us inside all that time we were apart. Filling the cold emptiness with warmth.

His hand –even though it was shaky –rested on the small of my back and gently attracted me closer to him until I was stuck to his torso. My arms settled on his shoulders instead and my hands comfortably rested on the back of his head, sweetly caressing his hair. His free hand cupped my cheek just as his thumb stroke my skin gingerly, sending shivers down my spine. Pleasant shivers that felt incredibly good compared to all the sorrow I had been exposed to ever since he was gone.

When we broke apart he sighed, and it took him a few more seconds to open his eyes. It suddenly looked like he had been ridden from a heavy weight that had left him breathless.

“Does that answer your question?” I smiled at him, brushing my thumb against his cheek while I did.

“So you don’t think differently of me?” Prompto frowned in seriousness. He was still insecure and needed to hear me say it. I knew he did. “You still… want me around?”

“I still want you, I still care about you and I still adore you” I spoke slowly to emphasize the importance of my words, to emphasize that they came from the heart. “But I do see you differently, because now I see all you must have been through”

“W-What do you…?” He gulped and had to start over. “What do you mean?”

“You had to keep that secret and pretend for so long, it must have been exhausting… Hiding it every day of your life, out of fear”

My boyfriend averted his eyes, which suddenly weren’t so bright anymore. I lifted his bracelet up his wrist, even if he tensed up under my touch because of it.

“You don’t need to hide it anymore” I said, gently tracing my fingers over his barcode.

He pursed his lips together in the smallest of smiles as his eyes shone with unshed tears. However, I knew those were tears of happiness. Of relief, of gratitude.

I just couldn’t believe someone like him felt so insecure and worthless, and a sudden wave of affection washed over me as I watched him standing there. He looked so vulnerable that I threw myself to him again. I locked my arms behind his back, hugging his lean torso and holding him as close to me as I possibly could. I leaned my head closer to his chest for comfort. Prompto buried his face in my hair and I shoved mine into his chest. I could hear his slightly rapid heartbeat. The embrace was clingy, needy, tight and affectionate. We squeezed the other tenderly in an attempt to get as close as we could, to absorb as much of the other as possible.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Gladio’s voice startled us, making us break the embrace absently-minded. “Hate to interrupt, but we should really get going”

“Of course” I said, distancing myself from Prompto slightly. “We’re on our way”

Our friend nodded and decided to give us space for a few more seconds, walking ahead of us. I was about to go after him when I realized Prompto wasn’t following me. When I turned to him I saw him smiling to himself, his watery eyes absently staring at the floor and his cheeks covered in a subtle blush that brought out his adorable freckles.

He was moved by my words. By then I could almost get inside his head and read his thoughts, and I knew he felt lucky. But honestly, I was the lucky one to have such a beautiful person as my boyfriend, barcode and all.

I opened my mouth, about to call him, when he lifted his head up and locked eyes with me. His blush only deepened when he realized I was watching him.

“Alex”

“Hm?”

“Thank you”

“I did nothing to be thanked for”

Before he could get too emotional about it, I held his hand and gently tugged at it so he would start walking. He obliged. Prompto chuckled happily and left a tender peck on my cheek.

We dragged ourselves to the rooms that Noct fortunately found in that place. With the news that such rooms with beds and a feeling of shelter existed, Iggy insisted that we should stay and rest.

The three of them assured that Prom and I should go ahead and get comfortable, as he was exhausted, while they would scour the area in order to make sure we were safe in there. I was positive that it was merely an excuse to give Prompto and me some time alone, which I appreciated. Honestly, I wanted to be alone with him, to hug him tight and comfort him to make up for everything he had just gone through. Yet that implied being extremely honest, affectionate and intimate with him in a way that I wouldn’t feel completely comfortable with our friends close by to witness it all.

Hence, Prom and I walked into the room and feebly took a look at the bunk beds. I smiled to myself thinking that he would definitely call dibs on the top one under other circumstances, just like he called shotgun on the Regalia.

Without a previous warning, he had engulfed me in a tight hug that I had no way of escaping. Not that I wanted to escape his lean but muscular arms anyhow. His familiar warmth next to me was comforting, and I gladly leaned into the touch by draping my arms around his neck and bringing him closer. As he bowed his head down onto my shoulder, my boyfriend let out a shaky breath. Then I felt his eyelashes tickling my skin as he closed his eyes and nuzzled my neck. While his arms urgently and desperately squeezed my body against his, I noticed his hands were shaking a little as they nervously moved up and down my back. Due to the sudden and passionate nature of the embrace, I knew he needed it. He had been needing it ever since he fell off the train. A long tight genuine hug.

“It’s okay now, Prom” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear me.

For the first time I truly put myself in his shoes. He had gone through a torturous odyssey.

First, his best friend had pushed him off a moving train. Even though Noct had thought he was Ardyn due to one of his filthy tricks, yet that didn’t lessen the hurtful impact on Prompto’s feelings. Later, he had been bound in a strange device that rendered him helpless and hopeless until we rescued him. After what occurred in the train, the poor boy probably started doubting if we would even come to his aid. Last but not least, once he found us and gathered up the courage to finally reveal his greatest secret, he must have been terrified. Especially when his girlfriend had distanced herself from him and behaved in a cold manner due to her own foolish and irrelevant thoughts.

And I had no idea what happened in the time between his fall and his rescue or for how long he had been hanging there from that machine that kept him captive without a way of freeing himself. Judging by his many bruises and cuts, however, I could tell it was harrowing and distressing.

“I’m sorry for everything” I whispered to him, managing the gentlest voice I could. “It’s over now, you’re safe. I promise, Prom”

A sniffling sound coming from him made my heart shrink in horror. Oh no… No, no, no…

A sob followed, frightening me deeply. Prompto squeezed me even tighter against him, needing the solace of the extreme closeness and warmth, of my intimate touch and affection. Of my comforting presence. I almost couldn’t breathe because he was holding me so tight against him, yet I didn’t have the heart to complain. Prompto let out a shaky breath against me, clinging onto me for dear life.

I wondered what was going through his head so I could utter the right words to comfort him and stop his pain. Even though I knew him well enough to get quite close to what his exact thoughts actually were.

He was breaking down. Surely, what happened to him was harrowing and he had every reason to start crying. Yet he only allowed himself to break down once we were alone.

It was bad enough to witness Noctis crying back in the train. But at least he somewhat shrugged it off and picked himself up quickly. Prompto didn’t. Prompto was profoundly distraught. He was just bawling his eyes out. And it broke my heart. What light is there supposed to be left when the sunshine is clouded by darkness?

I frowned and refrained from the urge of starting crying myself at the heartbreaking sight of him doing so, resolving to hold him tight and allow him to vent for as long as he needed.

“Let it out, Prom” I told him to let him know it was okay for him to cry. “Take your time”

I kindly patted his back, although I felt clumsy and didn’t truly know how to comfort him. All I could think of was holding him, which I was already doing. One of my hands flew to his hair, which I caressed lovingly.

“It’s okay now, you’re here with us” I whispered tenderly, kissing his head as well.

I could feel Prompto’s hand shakily yet desperately clinging to my clothes as he wept against my shoulder. His were still convulsing with sobs, yet he seemed to finally serene himself after one minute or so.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Alex”

“Hey” I held his face with tender hands. “Don’t apologize, it’s quite alright”

Feebly wiping his tears, he nodded in silence. His blue eyes were shiny and puffy from crying.

Still not letting go of his face, I planted a small kiss on his nose and grinned at him. He smiled through the tears and even let out a light chuckle.

“Come here, sunshine” I dedicated him the most loving and adoring sweet smile I could put together and delicately took his hand.

Brows knitted together and sadness still present in his eyes, he wiped his nose with the back of his free hand and nodded in silence. Clinging on to his hand and never letting go of it, I lied down in the lower bunk bend and scooted to the side to make room for him. Then I tugged at his hand to silently ask him to join me.

Without giving it a second thought, Prompto slowly obliged. In the slow and feeble manner that an exhausted person –physically, mentally and emotionally –would.

I didn’t need to tell him to snuggle closer and get comfortable before he moved in such a way that he was half lying on top of me, with his head on my chest. I immediately rested my hands on his head, nearly in an automatic gesture, and soothingly ran my fingers through his hair.

“Do you want to talk about it, Prom?” I needed to provide him with as much comfort as I could.

For that goal, I mentally evoked all the terms of endearment I called him as well as tried to exert as much love and sweetness towards him as I could possibly manage, caressing him and holding him tightly and amorously, to remind him how much I adored him.

“N-Not really…”

“That’s perfectly alright” I lightly bowed my head into his. “Just know that I will be here if you change your mind, I will always be”

“T-Thanks, Alex” For a moment, he remained completely still, rejoicing in the position we were in. But then he blindly reached out for one of my hands and determinedly clasped his fingers around mine, letting our intertwined hands rest over my stomach and sighing in content with the result.

“Prom?” I wondered if he could hear my heart speeding up as his ear rested close to it.

“Yeah?” I paused, getting truly frightened. I honestly wanted to say the words, to let him know even though he already did. To convey my affection and get that weight off my chest, I needed to let it out. Yet I was so scared of the situation those simple three words might trigger. What his reaction would be, if it was the right time and place to say them.

“I… I love you” I piped up in the end, the need of saying them being too strong.

He paused in what I hoped was a dumbfounded silence. I mentally prayed that I hadn’t made it awkward, that he wouldn’t linger on the stillness and say nothing back. That I didn’t make him feel forced to reciprocate the words even if he wasn’t at that point quite yet himself.

To my relief, he chuckled and pushed me tighter against him.

“I love you too, Alex”

I chuckled in relief and planted a kiss on his head as lovingly as I could. That sweet boy, I adored him so much.

“Hey, A-Alex?” Prom perked up after a brief moment of silence.

“Yes?”

“When I was handcuffed to that thing I had a lot of time to think…” He sighed, fidgeting around as he stirred and got more comfortable. “And… I realized all the things that I wanted you to know but that I never said”

“Prom, you don’t have to say anything, honey…”

“But I want to! I… I need you to know how I feel”

“Go ahead then” I nodded, tenderly stroking his hair. “I’m listening closely”

“I-I know I’m always goofing around and everything, but… I feel really lucky to have you guys, especially you, Alex! Because you do so much for me, and you… love me when I feel insecure and accept me when I think no one will… You make me feel like I belong with you guys” He let out one of his characteristic awkward yet adorable chuckles. “With you all I feel so safe. Especially with you, ever since we started dating I have never felt so happy and so loved and cared for and protected and… I just wanted you to know that, and to… thank you”

His words made me extremely emotional, they moved me deeply and gave me the urge to fondly squeeze him against me. An urge that I gladly gave in to.

“I feel the same way about you” I reluctantly admitted, being glad that we had been given a private moment. “I have never felt the way I do now with you, yet it is so… pleasant and comforting. I never thought one single person could make me so happy”

Prompto chuckled again, this time in content and shyness, and hid his face in my neck.

“Prom, you shouldn’t feel so insecure, you deserve the world” I whispered slowly, so my words would sink in. “You are good enough, and you are unique. And more importantly, you belong here with me. With us”

“Do you really mean that?” There was a hint of sentimentalism in his soft voice as well.

“Of course I mean that! We wouldn’t keep you around otherwise, we appreciate you” Gingerly, I slapped him in the arm as a mild scolding. “You should know this by now, Prom”

“Noct said the same thing…” Thoughtful, Prompto paused. “Well, kinda…”

“I would be slightly jealous if he said the exact same things I just confessed, to be quite honest”

The unexpected comment triggered a guffaw to escape from his pink lips. It made me smile, assured everything was alright again.

Tagging list: @toranyx, @prince-of-wind, @ghadah1421

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years ago

Text

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 214: Worlds Collide, Pt 3

Summer was growing exhausted, as she kept nullifying Mephisto's fireballs by putting them in her bubbles and extinguishing them, while her siblings fought off his heavily armed gang.

"We have to make sure they don't destroy the museum. We can't let all this history be destroyed," Eva feared.

"Yeah...we need to draw them out of here for sure," Emma agreed, as she blasted more of them back.

"He's definitely given these guys an upgrade in fighting skills and power," Leo said, as he breathed heavily, following a fist fight with one of the thugs.

"All right kid, you're our resident powerhouse. What do you suggest?" Emma asked her baby brother.

"An earthquake is the last thing we want in the museum, Emmy," he argued, but then smirked.

"But I think I have a new trick up my sleeve that I've been working on with Mr. Gold," he said. Rumple nodded.

"Now would be the time, lad," Rumple said, as three more of the thugs dropped dead, thanks to the Dark One snapping their necks.

"So much for not killing," Eva said uncomfortably.

"They're thugs...he just saved a ton of lives by killing them. They would have gone on to kill innocent people," Leo reasoned.

"He's right," Regina agreed, as several more dropped, thanks to her. It was drastic, but the stakes were too high. They were already going to be blamed for all the property damage and being the cause of it. But if they had civilian casualties, it would be far worse.

"I won't be surprised if the Major loses the battle with her government and we have them threatening to have the National Guard invade the United Realms," Regina said.

"Mom and Dad will wall us off before they let that happen," Leo assured. She sighed, hoping he was right. Snow and Charming were notoriously forgiving, but after the experience with their darker halves, she hoped they had learned that there were times that the tough decisions had to be made.

"You really think you can take me on, brat?" Mephisto questioned, as the fire in his palms gave the entire room a glow and yet Bobby didn't back away from the intimidating display.

"Considering I can do that too...yeah I think I do," Bobby retorted, as fire came alive in his hands. By now, most of the innocent bystanders had been evacuated, but there were still a few reporters and camera people that were braving the spectacle in order to get in on video.

"And I can do way more than that...like this," Bobby said, as he grabbed Mephisto's wrists.

"I may be able to wield all the elements, but I still specialize in earth powers," he said, as they disappeared with a jade green puff of smoke.

"Look!" Leo called, as they saw something burrowing beneath them through the ground and followed it outside the museum. There was another puff of jade green smoke, as the two emerged from the ground and Bobby tossed Mephisto onto a parked car.

"Ooohhh…I hope they have insurance," Emma commented. Mephisto was seething, as he pulled himself off the wrecked car.

"If you think for a second that this is over, brat...you have another thing coming," Mephisto growled, as disappeared in a fiery display of flames. His four older siblings descended upon him at that point, patting him on the back and ruffling his hair.

"That was awesome!" Leo exclaimed.

"Yeah...he was pissed. Good work, kid," Emma congratulated him. Bobby looked down a bit shyly.

"Thanks," he said.

"Come on...we need to find Mom, Dad, and Grandpa Xander," Eva said. They all agreed and with the rest of their family, they ventured back inside the museum to try and discern where they could have gone.

~*~

Snow and David chased them through the Museum, but when they followed them into the Ancient Egypt exhibit, they found the room empty.

"We lost them," Xander hissed.

"No...there's no way out of this room other than the way we came in," Snow realized.

"She's right," he said, as they willed the chalice forth in its joined form and used it to scan the room for any residual magic or portals. There was an ethereal glow on the replica of the Giza pyramid and they exchanged a glance.

"That's why no one can ever find them. They're using this exhibit to portal somewhere else," David said.

"But this land has no magic without the two of you in the vicinity," Xander said.

"No...but would creating a portal with some of Clayton's technology be impossible?" Snow asked and he sighed.

"No...that's very possible," he agreed, as the chalice glowed and the magic opened up the portal from the residual trail left by whatever technology they had used to slip away.

"We have no idea what we're walking into," Xander warned.

"No...we don't. But we don't have a choice. We have to stop them and it looks like we're the only ones that can," David said, as he looked at Snow.

"The kids will find us too…" she assured them. They nodded and walked through the portal.

~*~

"Wow...this is a really old book," Tink mentioned.

"It is and it was really hard to find. That's why I think it might be important," Rose replied.

"But I thought you were able to catalog everything in the library?" Neal asked.

"I was...that's why this one is so unique. This book is not in my catalog," she replied.

"The plot thickens," Tink said, as she flipped through it.

"Because new books literally appear all the time, that's happened from time to time, but I just have a feeling that this one had help appearing," Rose replied.

"You think it was being hidden, my angel?" Fandral asked.

"It's possible. I don't know who is suddenly helping us or maybe it's because Blue has committed the ultimate crime," Tink replied.

"The murder of another fairy," she said.

"Not to mention a human, even a deplorable one," Fandral added.

"Who did Blue answer to as Head Fairy?" Neal asked.

"Zeus himself," Tink replied, as he took the book.

"And who do you answer to now that you're Head Fairy and Zeus is dead?" he asked.

"Well…I've had no formal meeting with any other Gods, except Aphrodite. I suppose it would be Athena, but she has yet to formally meet with me," Tink replied.

"And if Zeus, for some reason, forbade Athena from interfering, she might use other means to get the information to us," Rose deduced.

"It's entirely possible," Tink agreed.

"Did Blue ever answer to Hera?" Neal asked.

"No…Hera would have never had any authority over the fairies. She may have been Zeus' wife, but they hated each other. He didn't trust her," Tink replied.

"That was probably wise...look at this," he said, as he showed them an image on the page.

"That's Blue...and Hera," Tink said.

"Standing over the unconscious body of Aphrodite," Rose added in alarm.

"Can you translate this?" Fandral asked. Tink nodded and used her wand to translate the book from Greek to English.

"We best start at the beginning," Rose said, as she took the book and began to read.

~*~

Flashback

The young blonde girl cried, as she looked out over the ocean, tears glistening in her eyes, as the sea foam bubbled to the surface of the crystal blue water.

"It's time, my precious one," Zeus called, as he stood behind her.

"Why Daddy?" she asked.

"Mother has been gone but a few weeks and you are getting married again!" Aphrodite shouted.

"You know it's not my choice, young one," he admonished.

"I am the God of the skies. I must have a Queen...it is one rule I cannot break," he said, as she stood up.

"And it is time for you to learn of your duties. You are the Goddess of love and beauty, daughter of Dione and you will fulfill her vision of championing true love," he announced, as an item appeared in his hand.

"Mother's chalice," she said in awe.

"Your chalice now...its magnificence and power is now yours," he corrected.

"What do I know about true love?" she asked bitterly. He smirked.

"You will, my sweet girl," he assured, as he kissed her forehead.

"Hera will not like that she does not get mother's chalice," Aphrodite said wearily.

"She has no claim to it. You are our pride and joy and she wouldn't want anyone but you to have it," he replied.

"It's a big responsibility…" she said with trepidation.

"One that your mother knew you would excel at. After all, who better than to choose the truest loves each millennium among the mortals than a product of true love herself," he said. Aphrodite smiled and hugged him.

"I miss her, Daddy," she said.

"Me too, sweet girl," he replied. They were both unaware of Hera's blistering gaze upon them from the shadows.

~*~

"Are you sure they're okay?" George questioned, as he looked at the pair. The moment James had given Aphrodite true love's kiss, the curse on them shattered, but as a side effect of the complete unlocking on Aphrodite's memories, they collapsed into unconsciousness. Neither Zeus or Dione seemed alarmed though and Nyx had magicked a bed to lay them upon.

"They are fine...this is part of it. They will only awaken when they have relieved their entire past," Zeus assured.

"What kind of curse is this? And who cursed them?" George asked.

"You will know that soon...but not before them," Dione replied and they went back to waiting for them to awaken.

~*~

"These are exquisite," the man said, as he examined the artifacts.

"These are genuine Olmec Terracotta's...they're priceless," the woman next to him added, as she looked them over as well.

"Everything has a price...getting these wasn't easy," Natalie commented.

"Yes...they are nearly untouched, despite their age. How did you find these?" the woman asked.

"I'm not an archeologist that plays by the rules, so to speak. But I know what I'm doing and able to excavate certain sites that have forbidden said excavation," Natalie replied.

"Clayton always did hire the best. It seems you have surrounded yourself with the same skillful people that your father did," she commented, looking to Johnny. He smirked.

"I was groomed from birth to step into his shoes," he agreed.

"And I do manage to find the best, however, our previous translator passed and we need a new one for this," Johnny mentioned.

"Oh a quipu...is this the one you've been hoping for?" she asked.

"We'll see," Natalie replied vaguely.

"Well…I may know of someone that can translate this for you. But I expect you to give me a deal on these beauties," she said.

"Then I assume you and Dr. La Guerra are interested in the jade as well?" Johnny asked.

"Normally, I would pass on the jade, but the condition this is in is rare," the doctor replied.

"Then you had better be prepared to pay a pretty penny," a new voice said, as Natalie turned.

"Mother…" she said in a warning tone.

"You'll let these real treasures slip through your fingers on the off chance that another silly quipu will lead you to a grander one that might not even exist," Thalia argued.

"I can't believe you discount the existence of Cibola or El Dorado when I was born in freaking Atlantis," Natalie argued back.

"Clayton was hundreds of years old and knew some of the best explorers. He even knew her ancestor, one of the greatest and most ruthless conquistadors in history," Thalia argued, gesturing to the woman.

"And he still never found it," she finished.

"It's real mother...and I'm going to find it," Natalie snapped back. Thalia sighed.

"You and finding things," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" Natalie asked, but her question was interrupted when Snow, David, and Xander appeared in the secret meeting place.

"Well, well...you found your way here, after all," Johnny said, as he tapped his glass.

"Ladies and Gentlemen...the illustrious Snow White and Prince Charming themselves, in the flesh, along with the chalice of Aphrodite!" he announced, instantly drawing the entire room's attention to them.

"My father's murderers!" he continued, with a hiss.

"We didn't murder him. His own arrogance destroyed him," David snapped back.

"Your chalice...it was all I ever heard about growing up, you know. Father was always a bit miffed that he knew about such an object, but it was the one thing he couldn't collect. Thus why he decided to collect the pair of you," Johnny retorted, as he looked to Xander.

"You remember the stories. I still remember those nights here and there where father was too busy to deal with me and the nannies were at their wits end. But you would get me calmed down and put to bed," he recalled, with a bit of fondness.

"All while you knew you abandoned your own son and your granddaughter that was out there in some group home," he added with a vicious smile.

"Shut up, you little prick," Xander hissed, which only amused the sadistic son of the Collector.

"And you," he said, with reverence, as he looked at Snow.

"Father always was enamored with you the most, because of your resemblance to the Goddess. She was his original obsession," he revealed, surprising them both.

"Oh, didn't know that, did you?" he said.

"I suppose you wouldn't, since the Goddess has had her memories scrambled more times than even you two," he retorted.

"Yes...he almost had it all. He made you crush his heart to cast a curse and he would have had the chalice. And you...but then you know that part. It still haunts you," he leered.

"Shut the hell up," David growled, as he pulled Snow even closer to him.

"And you...the hero Prince Charming. He wanted to be you, in a way, just without all the selfless heroics. The people's Prince...the husband of the fairest of them all. The truest loves. I came to loathe your story," he said bitterly.

"It's not our problem that your narcissistic father didn't hug you enough. Trust us...we never wanted his kind of attention," David retorted.

"Oh, but you got it...every bit of it," Johnny replied.

"We're here to retrieve the stolen items that you took," Snow said, as she looked at Natalie.

"Including the quipu. It's not yours," she added.

"Oh and I suppose you're going to take it from me, Princess?" Natalie challenged.

"Don't tempt her. That's not a fight you'll win," David challenged, as blue eyes met blue eyes.

"I think I can handle more than you know," she challenged back.

"Thinking you have any advantage here would be unwise," the older blonde woman next to Natalie said.

"Who the hell are you?" David asked. She smirked and looked at Xander.

"He is definitely yours," she replied.

"Long time no see...Xander," she purred.

"Thalia," he said stiffly.

"You know her?" David asked.

"Oh he knows me...quite well, in fact," she replied. Snow's eyes narrowed and she looked at her father-in-law.

"How well?" she asked, watching him swallow nervously.

"It only happened a couple of times," he assured.

"Oh my God…" David exclaimed in outrage.

"David...your mother had been gone a long time and I was struggling," he tried to explain.

"Yes...he was. The alcohol...the guilt with you laying in a hospital bed and his granddaughter in an unhappy group home," Thalia revealed.

"Stop it," Xander growled.

"Yes...to be fair, you wanted to reunite your family then, but Clayton convinced you that it would be a mistake," Thalia said.

"I've made a lot of mistakes and I wasn't always a good man. My son knows my shortcomings," Xander insisted.

"Apparently not with the way he's looking at you right now," Thalia said.

"Oh and I suppose your daughter knows everything about you?" he challenged. She frowned.

"Not everything…" Snow interjected and the older blonde glared at her.

"Stay out of this, princess. It's none of your business," she retorted.

"David is my business and I have a feeling there's something that she doesn't know about you," Snow challenged.

"Snow?" David asked, as he watched her look at his father. He sighed. He had known Snow long enough to know that she wouldn't let this go until she had answers for her husband.

"Is she mine?" he asked and Natalie looked alarmed by that question.

"What? Mother?" she asked.

"We're not doing this…" Thalia hissed, as the three of them cried out and a shield appeared around them.

"Ray shields...I think you'll find them quite impervious to your magical chalice," Thalia said, as they tried to use it to nullify the shield, but it didn't work.

"The auction is over for tonight!" she called, as they could only watch, as most of the people dispersed through portals that seemed to be catacombed within the strange chamber.

"Where is this place?" Snow wondered.

"We're hundreds of feet underground. Trust me, no one is going to find you," Natalie refuted.

"Underground?" David asked, as he and Snow shared an amused glance.

"You're going to eat those words," Snow said.

"What about our deal?" doctor La Guerra interjected, as there was suddenly a rumble beneath them and a huge plume of jade green smoke, as Bobby burrowed to the surface with his siblings and Regina, while the others waited on standby on the surface.

"That was the weirdest thing ever, but really cool," Leo said.

"There is a ton of dirt in my hair," Regina complained, as she started trying to brush it out.

"At least your hair is dark enough not to show it," Emma grumbled.

"Mom! Dad!" Eva called, as she ran to them.

"Careful honey...we don't know what this shield is, but the chalice couldn't break through," Snow warned. Regina waved her hand over it.

"It's not any magic I know," she said.

"Maybe it's not magic at all," Leo said, as Eva spotted a control panel on the wall.

"Not one step, princess," Thalia warned, but was shocked when Leo used a lightning bolt to fry the control panel, destroying the shield.

"Let's go…" Johnny growled, as he grabbed Natalie's hand. She spared another glance at them, as Johnny escaped with her and Thalia. The doctor and his companion weren't so lucky.

"Freeze!" David warned, as he pulled his gun on the mysterious pair and they were forced to put their hands up. Emma waved her hand and cuffs appeared on their wrists. David holstered his gun and they used the chalice to create a portal back to the surface.

"No idea who you two are...but you're gonna tell us," he said, as they gathered the stolen artifacts, except the quipu, and filed through the portal.

~*~

Flashback

Hera stormed into her Temple and huffed, as she sat down in her Throne.

"For someone that just got married to the All Mighty Zeus...you don't seem very happy," Blue mentioned, as she emerged from the shadows.

Zeus had created the fairies to be messengers between the Gods and mortals. For some reason, the mortals saw fairies as a symbol of good and did not fear them like they did the Gods. Mortals had their reasons to fear the Gods though, since the past was filled with bloodshed between the monarchs of Mount Olympus and humans.

Reul Ghorm had been chosen by him as head of the fairies, but as it often did, power slowly began to corrupt Blue and just as bitterness had set in for Hera, it had for Blue as well.

Blue wanted more power and control over mortals, but Zeus had long forbade it. She had even tried to endear herself to Dione in hopes of having a hand in choosing the truest loves. It was a vision that Dione had and never realized. She planned to select two mortals, who represented the epitome of true love, to bestow the power of her magical chalice to.

The chalice was forged by Dione's mother, Gaia herself, from the essence of the earth she loved so much and all its elements. She gifted it to Dione and she wanted to do good for mortals with it. But the recent Titanomachy had given Hera the perfect opportunity to eliminate the woman that had the Throne she wanted. Dione had been mortally wounded, but it was not what it appeared to be. Hera had colluded with the Titans to topple Zeus and Dione, promising them positions of power if she was crowned Queen if they killed Dione and her precious daughter. Naturally, she betrayed them all and they were cast into Tartarus with her secret remaining unknown. The end result was that Dione was dead and she was Queen now. However, their offspring lived and the coveted chalice now belonged to Aphrodite.

"He gave the chalice to his daughter!" she hissed.

"Then perhaps we need to arrange an accident for the little blonde bimbo," Blue suggested.

"You know that's impossible. The war with the Titans distracted Athena enough that she could not see our deception, but now it will not be so easy," Hera reminded her.

"True and if Zeus loses the apple of his eye...well, there will be no Earth to rule. He would smite us all and the mortals just in sheer blind rage," Blue agreed.

"Yes...and even as Queen, I am still overshadowed by Dione's precious little flower," Hera complained. Blue smirked.

"If we can't kill her...then we can certainly manipulate her," she suggested. Hera's interest perked at that.

"What do you have in mind?" Hera asked.

"I will befriend the empty headed beauty and help her choose her champions," Blue replied. Hera smirked.

"Champions that we select...champions that ultimately could lead to our control of the chalice," she deduced. Blue nodded.

"Precisely," she said and Hera tilted her head.

"You already have a pair of mortals in mind, don't you?" she asked. Blue smirked.

"Yes...and they will serve us well. The man I have in mind will do anything for power. Faking true love with some woman will fool the little twit and when she gifts them her chalice...it's as good as ours," Blue replied.

"Then this is our plan. Proceed...and do not fail me, Blue," Hera said.

"Never, my Goddess. Zeus may think my loyalty is to him, but we know that you are my Queen," Blue said, as she became small in her fairy form with a Blue glow and descended back to earth.

~*~

"Wow…" Tink said, as Rose finished reading the beginning passages.

"So Blue has really been loyal to Hera all along and was working for her," Fandal said.

"That's heavy...but something tells me more happened later between them. I mean, this explains why Hera hates Aphrodite, but this implies that Blue was only doing Hera's bidding at first," Neal said.

"He's right...somewhere it became personal for Blue too," Rose said, as she closed the book.

"I'll read more when we get home and then we can discuss more tomorrow," she said. Tink smiled and used her magic on the book, duplicating it.

"Now we can both read...because I have to know more. Then I think we can finally bring her down," Tink said. Rose nodded and smiled at her.

"Guess we're doing more reading when we get home instead of other stuff," Neal muttered. The blonde smirked.

"Behave and you might get more than reading," she teased, as they joined hands and left the diner.

"I'll round up the children," Fandral said, as he kissed her cheek and went to get them from the table where they were playing a game.

"Mom...what if the Blue Fairy realizes you're reading her story and she tries to stop you?" Carina asked worriedly.

"I won't lie to you, sweetie...she very well may try. But your Papa will never let anything happen to me," Rose promised.

"Your mother is right," Fandral agreed, as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"The Blue Fairy may have magic, but this Asgardian warrior will not let her silence more people," he promised, as they left the diner to head home for the evening.

~*~

"Dammit...you two were careless! And now we lost a fortune worth of jade and rare terracotta's!" Thalia roared.

"Relax...the quipu is what we really wanted, especially if it is the one my father sought. The key to Cibola or El Dorado. They have enough treasure to command power over the entire world," Johnny replied.

"Or it's just another ancient series of knots and strings full of riddles! Taunting the truest loves was a horrible misstep!" she cried.

"They already knew exactly who we were!" Johnny snapped.

"That woman...the Major has them chasing us like her own personal team of fairy tale agents," he added irritably.

"Pack up...we're leaving. Back to the Athens base," Thalia ordered.

"Oh no...we're not doing that. It's time for offensive measures," Johnny refuted.

"Johnny...that's not a good idea," Thalia argued.

"I'm in charge of this operation!" Johnny snapped.

"I am my father's heir!" he added.

"Besides...the cowardly doctor will talk. I have no illusions that Prince Charming and his brats will interrogate the truth right out of him," he said. Thalia sighed.

"Then you better work on getting that thing translated and hope that it's what we need," she said.

"Not until you tell me what you're hiding," Natalie interjected.

"Natalie…" she started to deflect, but her daughter cut her off.

"Were you and Xander...involved?" she asked.

"Of course they were," Johnny answered for her.

"Stay out of this, Junior," Thalia snapped.

"Mother…" Natalie pressed and she sighed.

"It only happened a couple of times," Thalia insisted, stunning her to silence. She was almost afraid to ask her next question, because somehow she knew the answer.

"Is…is Xander my father?" she asked. Thalia turned away in frustration.

"Mother...is he my father!?" she shouted and her silence spoke volumes.

"Wow...that I didn't know, but I guess it makes sense," he said.

"You knew they were together at one time?" Natalie asked in an accusatory tone, but he shrugged.

"We were never together…" Thalia refuted.

"I remember seeing them together here and there as a child. When my father wasn't pulling him out of the bottle...your mum was. Honestly, I never really put it together, but it makes sense," Johnny said, as he started to laugh then.

"Father must certainly be laughing now...you're a Charming!" he exclaimed to her.

"Well...half Charming," he teased.

"Shut up!" Natalie hissed.

"Mother…" she growled.

"It's true...Xander is your father," Thalia revealed.

"You said that my father died…" Natalie hissed.

"I lied...and it was for the best! Xander was gone most of the time, on missions for Clayton and when he was around, he was drinking and wallowing about the children he had already abandoned. He would have abandoned you too," Thalia said.

"That wasn't your choice!" Natalie hissed.

"Xander is a traitor...and our plan remains unchanged," Johnny said, as he loaded his gun with a clip.

"We cannot count on Malina's source to translate the quipu...but I've located a back up. Let's go…" he said, as Natalie glared at her mother and had a moment of pause.

"Natalie...are you coming?" he asked. She looked at him and then nodded.

"Yes," she replied. The revelation that Xander was her father and she had this huge family out there was jarring. But she didn't know them and they certainly wouldn't want someone like her. No...this didn't change anything.

~*~

After returning to the surface, they escorted the two mysterious captives back to the Boston FBI headquarters for interrogation. Agent Green and Agent Brooks insisted on taking the first crack at their interrogation. Some of the other agents began processing the recovered artifacts, while David observed the interrogation from the glass, along with the Major. It was late, so he insisted that everyone go back to the hotel to get some sleep, but he wasn't surprised when Snow came in and put her arms around him. She could see the questions in his mind and knew his father was probably waiting in the conference room for him. But he didn't want to think about any of it right now, because he knew he knew lashing out in anger wouldn't get them anywhere. He wanted answers, but knew he wouldn't like hearing any of them. So for now, he was focused on the two potential investors in the next room. Snow managed to get a bit of his frustration to ebb away, but it was growing since the two agents weren't getting anywhere.

"How much more time are we going to let these two waste?" he asked impatiently.

"The lab is running their prints. If we get a hit, then I'll let you go at them both. But I'd rather you go in there with something, because they're not giving an inch," the Major replied.

"It's going to be okay," Snow whispered to him, as she kissed him gently. He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers.

"You figured it out before me…" he said.

"The bitterness rolled off that woman in waves and when I saw that it was directed at your father...it wasn't much of a leap after that," she replied, as the Major came back into the room with a file and Xander followed her in.

"We got two hits…" Patricia said, as she put the file down on the table in front of them.

"Did we even need to?" David asked, as he looked at his father.

"Do you know them too?" he demanded to know.

"Yes...I know of them. I only met them a handful of times," Xander said. David gripped the metal table, his knuckles turning white and probably the only thing that kept him from raging at that moment was Snow's hand on his arm.

"The man is Dr. Hector La Guerra. He technically had his medical license revoked in 1945 and he fled his homeland of France for the United States," Patricia said.

"Funny...he doesn't look that old," David commented.

"None of these people are what they seem. He was born in 1918 and worked for the Nazis during World War II," she continued.

"Oh wonderful...a real life Nazi," Snow said.

"He lost his license for human experimentation and specializes in working with disease and poisons," Patricia continued.

"Clayton recruited him after the war and brought him to Atlantis. He introduced the doctor to all the magical plants, herbs and substances he had in his collection. It was Dr. La Guerra that created the youth potions. He was able to synthesize the water from the fountain of youth with his own mixture of magical herbs and created a way to utilize the water without tying the user to Atlantis," Xander explained.

"Boy, the good news just keeps coming," David deadpanned.

"We never saw him in Atlantis...but I spent a lot of time in the infirmary with Eva during that time. There were many rooms sealed off to us and I can still remember the screaming of people coming from some of those rooms," Snow recalled, as she got a haunted look on her face. Xander nodded.

"That would be him. There is other things I could tell you about what he does to people, but it's too horrific and I'm not going to do that," he added, as they looked at him.

"I'll tell you everything you need to know, but I will not tell you the specifics of what he does to people, even children, inside those rooms. You won't be able to handle it," Xander said firmly. Snow shuddered and David let that lay, as he turned his head back to the window.

"Enough about the sick bastard...what about her?" he asked.

"She is Malina Pizarro, born in Spain and if you know anything about the history of the Conquistadors, yes, she is of that Pizarro bloodline. The conqueror of the Incas was her ancestor and she has continued her quest to pillage and destroy indigenous cultures all over the globe," Patricia replied.

"Born in 1936 to her powerful and wealthy parents in Barcelona, she followed in her family's footsteps and led many expeditions that resulted in the destruction of ancient sites, their history, and complete pillaging of their cultures," Patricia added.

"How are evil pieces of crap like this not in prison already?" David hissed in frustration.

"You know why, David...that's the reason you and your family are here," Patricia reminded him. He turned back to the window in frustration and then stood up straight.

"They're not getting anywhere...I'm going in," he said, as he walked out of the room. He drew his sword and barged into the interrogation room.

"Excuse me...we're in the middle of an interrogation," Agent Green argued.

"And for normal perps, your methods might work...but not for this evil scum. Get out," he ordered. Agent Green huffed, but when Patricia entered the room and motioned them out, they reluctantly obeyed her order.

"Uh oh Malina...Prince Charming is here to intimidate us," the doctor goaded and she smirked back at him. David responded by kicking his chair out from beneath him. The man cried out, as he fell to the floor, but not before he hit his chin on the table on the way down, causing him excruciating pain. Blood leaked from his mouth from busted teeth and he glared up at the Prince.

"You ignorant brute…" the doctor hissed.

"You're going to tell me where Junior is off to or you're not going to live to see another day," David warned. The doctor chuckled.

"Right to the death threats…" he laughed.

"Believe it or not, your Highness, you don't scare me. I've done things that would make you double over and retch where you stand," he warned.

"So I've heard," David retorted.

"Oh no...you haven't heard the details, because you're still standing," as he turned his attention to the window. It was one way glass, but somehow he must have known she was there.

"I remember seeing your lovely, fair wife in Atlantis...your children too. None of you ever saw me, as Clayton forbade me contact with you, for he knew I wouldn't be able to help myself," he goaded.

"Specimens like them...now that would have been a glorious experiment. Magical blood...I begged him to let me at her, but alas, it didn't happen. I imagined her tortured screams though and watching her red blood slide down her white, delicate skin…" he said, as he licked his lips. David lost it at that moment and picked him up, before slamming him against the wall.

"Last chance to keep breathing. One more word about my wife or children and it's over for you," he warned.

"If you want information...then we want a deal," Malina said calmly.

"Not happening...the only deal you're getting is life in prison and not a needle in your arm. Your list of crimes is extensive," Patricia replied. She smirked.

"Then do your worst, Major Donovan. My family is powerful...I won't spend one day in your jail," she said confidently. But it was Patricia's turn to smirk.

"Oh, it won't be an American prison if you don't cooperate," she revealed.

"Your crimes in other countries have them clamoring to prosecute you. I just put out the word that I have you in custody, thanks to my newest and very special agent," she said, referring to David. She frowned.

"The American prison is at least humane. You'll get meals and a bed and even a few privileges. But the other countries prisons won't be so nice, but not even those are the ones you have to worry about, because if I turn you over to the people that your family has destroyed for centuries...your life is done and your death will not be swift," she threatened.

"You can't do that...your court system does not work that way," she countered.

"It does in this case...do you really want to test me or him?" Patricia said.

"Fine...those in the states that can still translate a quipu are all at Universities, which would be too risky now. So Junior is likely going to Peru. That's about the only place where you're going to anyone that can still read them and even then that's going to be difficult. It's a dead language, as are the Inca people. But I know of one family near Cusco...and so does he. That's where he'll go," Malina revealed.

"And this family? Will they tell him willingly?" David asked. She smirked.

"Definitely not...his father helped the Conquistadors destroy their ancestors, as well as countless other cultures. But like his father...Johnny will get what he wants, one way or another," she replied smugly.

"It's too bad...I'd love to participate in the coming torture," the doctor said.

"Reminding me that you're still breathing isn't wise," David snapped at him, as he walked out.

"We're leaving aboard the Jolly Roger in the morning and those two are going to lead us to them," he said to Patricia. She nodded.

"I'll have them put down in a holding cell until then. Agent Green and Agent Brooks, you and your team will be responsible for transporting these two to the Harbor and joining us. We're going to Peru, O six hundred," she ordered, as she saw David pull Snow into his arms and kiss her. Some of his stress melted away at her kiss and her touch, at least in those quiet seconds.

"David…" Xander interrupted.

"You tucked Clayton's son in at night while your granddaughter was alone in a group home!" he roared.

"It wasn't like that," Xander insisted.

"He was a neglected child that grew into the shadow his father left behind," he added.

"You worked with these people!" David shouted.

"You ate with them! Talked to them! Hell...you even slept with some of them!" he ranted.

"And I hated all of them! And mostly myself most of the time, but Clayton was very convincing! You have to believe me! I wanted nothing more than to get Emma from that group home and bring her to you! But he told me it would be a disaster!" Xander insisted.

"He lied," David growled.

"Yes...and I realized it far too late. I helped him destroy people, because he promised me that in the end, it would lead me back to you and my family," Xander replied. David snorted.

"Well...he was right. Too bad it took you almost thirty years to get to us when you knew exactly where we were," he said, as he took Snow's hand and started to walk away.

"David please...you have to forgive me," Xander pleaded. He stopped and turned to him partially.

"No…I don't and I'm not sure I can," he said.

"David…" he begged, with tears in his eyes.

"How many times?" David asked.

"What?" Xander asked.

"How many times did you stand over my comatose body in that hospital!?" he roared. Xander swallowed thickly.

"Too many," he answered and David shook his head.

"You could have brought Emma to me...hell, you could have brought Snow to me too and you didn't! You were too busy working for that psychopath and sleeping with his operatives," David hissed, as he turned away again and Snow cast a glance behind her, as they walked away from him. She was torn, for the last thing she wanted was for her husband's relationship with his father to implode. But her loyalty was to David first and he had every right to be angry.

~*~

Flashback

The village burned with roaring fire, making it certain that it would be wiped off the map when the flames died. A tall man of Greek descent emerged from the fire and approached his team.

"Did you get it?" he asked, as one of his excavators unwrapped the cloth and presented the jeweled necklace to him. He examined it, but his hope faded and he tossed it back at the worker.

"This is fake!" he cried.

"I'm...I'm sorry sir...the chief finally revealed its location after hours of interrogation. This is said to be the necklace of Harmonia," he replied.

"It's a fake replica! Costume jewelry!" he ranted, as he tossed it into the fire.

"I need that necklace! It can give me eternal youth and find the treasure I seek," he growled.

"The necklace of Harmonia is with Zeus...you'll never obtain it," a voice said, as there was a blue flash and a woman appeared before him.

"A fairy…" he said with intrigue.

"Yes...and you are the man known as the Collector," she replied.

"Sirius Clayton…" he introduced himself.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I must continue my quest for another source of eternal youth if I am to make sure I live long enough to find Atlantis," he said.

"I can help you do that...and more. I can make your entire bloodline for centuries to come...legendary," she offered. He stopped and turned back to her.

"I am not a good man and you are a fairy. Why would you do that?" he questioned.

"Because I want power...just like you and I need a mortal to get that power," she revealed.

"But don't worry...you'll have the ultimate power too," she said.

"Tell me more…" he inquired.

"There is a chalice, created by Gaia herself and gifted to her favorite daughter, Dione. In turn, Dione has gifted to her precious one, Aphrodite," Blue explained.

"Goddess of love, beauty, and desire," he recalled.

"That's the one...the apple of Zeus' eye and instead of giving the chalice to his new wife, Hera, he has given it to his naive, virginal daughter that still thinks that true love is real," Blue said.

"Fascinating...and where do I come in?" he asked.

"Before Dione died, she intended to gift the chalice to a true love pair that she deemed worthy of it to champions of love and heroes to mortals. But she never discovered a pair that she deemed worthy enough," Blue explained.

"Her daughter is determined to keep those standards, but she is wildly more naive than her wise mother," she continued. He smirked.

"You want me to find some woman and convince your naive Goddess that we are the pair she should gift her chalice too," he deduced.

"You are sharp...but it can't be just any woman. It has to be someone convincing and able to pull off the act," she replied. He smirked.

"I think I know of someone," he said.

"But what kind of power are we talking about?" he questioned.

"Unlimited power and eternal youth," she promised. He smirked.

"Where do we start?" he asked.

~*~

Xander sat at the hotel bar and hadn't even bothered to go to his room that night. It was almost two in the morning and they would be kicking him out soon. A glass of scotch sat before him and his stare burrowed into the amber glass of liquid, as a blonde climbed onto the seat next to him.

"Please tell me you haven't touched that, Gramps," Emma said.

"Don't worry...I'm just looking at the thing that kept me from my family for so long," Xander replied.

"You know, I don't blame you, right?" Emma asked. He snorted.

"Your father does...maybe you should. I could have spared you years of unhappiness, Emma. When the Swans sent you back...I should have told Clayton to go to hell and took you straight to your father," he replied.

"You know Clayton would have stopped you or tried to. He might have killed you," Emma surmised.

"And you know Dad...he'll come around. He's almost as forgiving as Mom," she reminded him.

"I don't know, Em...I've never seen him this angry," Xander replied.

"Mom will bring him around...she always does. Just give him time," Emma assured him.

"I hope you're right…" Xander replied.

"Go up to your room and get a little sleep. We're leaving early," she suggested.

"I'm not sure David wants me there," Xander said.

"Yes he does...and you know Clayton's operation better than anyone. Not to mention that you now have a daughter out there that's on the wrong side. You can either stay here and wallow in self pity," Emma said, as he looked at her.

"Or you can fight for your relationship with my Dad and maybe even one with your daughter," she said.

"Her mother has poisoned her against us," Xander replied.

"And we thought George and later Clayton did the same thing to James and now I call him Uncle James," Emma reminded him, as she pushed the glass toward the bartender.

"He won't be needing this," she said, as she threw some money down for it. Xander sighed and followed her to the elevator.

"We always tell you how much like your father you are, but you are every bit your mother's daughter too," he mentioned fondly. Emma smiled.

"I know...I've seen the hope thing work for her time and again, so I took a page from her book on this one. Dad will come around," she assured, as they got in the elevator.

~*~

Snow awoke in the middle of the night, noticing that the warmth of David's body was gone. She got up and padded out to the outside balcony of their hotel suite in her long, white silk nightgown. She found him there, staring off into space and slipped her arms around his waist, before resting her head against his naked back.

"Oh baby…" she murmured, as her heart ached for him.

"I just got used to having a brother...and now a sister…" he muttered.

"A sister that was raised in Clayton's world," he said.

"Not all the people in his network are killers," she offered, as he took her in his arms and kissed her hair.

"I hope...I mean, the stealing I can get passed," he said, looking at her fondly and she smiled back.

"You do have a thing for bandits," she teased.

"Except you were stealing to survive. She steals...for treasure," he said bitterly.

"Then it's your father that's mostly bothering you," she surmised.

"I knew he had killed people...I mean, I've killed people too. We're not so different...at least that's what I told myself," he said.

"But if I knew my grandchild was out there, somewhere alone, being abused...I would have moved heaven and earth to get to them!" he said fiercely.

"I know...I know, my love…" she soothed.

"What if Merlin hadn't nurtured her belief by giving her the book? It would have been ten times worse for her, Snow," he fretted.

"At least the book showed her how much we truly loved her and how we didn't choose to be separated from her. It gave her hope…" he continued.

"But my father could have walked into that adoption agency, submitted to a DNA test, and proved he was Emma's blood. But instead, he was sailing around other realms that weren't frozen by the curse, collection things for Clayton! Treasure and gold and inanimate objects over our daughter!" he stressed.

"Over you...you can say it, my love. He chose those things over you and it was wrong," she said.

"You are a much stronger, braver man than he is. You are your mother's son," she said fondly. He sighed.

"The killing...I can get past as surprising as that sounds. I got past it with James. He was raised by a tyrant. It would have been a miracle if he didn't become a killer," he said.

"But what else has he lied about? There could be so many things we don't know about him. I knew that...and I ignored it. I can't do that anymore. I need to know everything," he added.

"And you will," she assured him, as she led him back inside.

"Until then...we should go back to bed," she said, as he sighed.

"You know I can't sleep now…" he replied. She smirked and gently let the thin straps on her nightgown fall away and it became a puddle at her feet.

"Then let's do some...not sleeping," she replied. His eyes glazed, as he drank her in. His beautiful wife was a master at distracting him and though he knew they would have to deal with all of this in just a few short hours, he welcomed this distraction. He walked to her with purpose and kissed her passionately, while cupping her face in his hands. She mewled into his kiss and then yelped in excitement, as he lifted her up and she hooked her legs around his waist. He carried her to bed and for those few hours, they became lost in each other...

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rhina988 · 7 years ago

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Indecent Proposal - Chapter 20

Read from the beginning

Chapter 19

Jared's POV

"I know Shannon, I screwed up, big time," I whispered nervously while I looked over my shoulder, not wanting to wake Melody up, as I was pacing next to the bedroom door. She had finally managed to fall asleep and I didn't want to disturb her anymore. She couldn't stop flinching almost the entire night. The second she'd start falling asleep I could feel her body twitching and her hand squeezing mine that was lying across her tummy. My poor little birdy was so terrified and all because of me.

"I'll have to call you back, she could be up any second, and I need to be by her side," Shannon was giving me the third degree and I wasn't really in the mood for lectures, so I cut him off. I needed my big brother to comfort me, but it seemed as if he was taking Melody's side every single time. Truth be told I was the one to blame for the trauma Melody went through, but I still thought Shannon would try to console me and assure me everything will be all right in the end. But he did just the opposite.

As I hung up the phone, I walked back to bed and gently laid down next to Melody, hoping she would stay asleep. Unfortunately she was up the second she felt my body wrapping around hers.

"Jared," she gasped reaching for my arm.

"Shhh, it's ok baby girl. I'm right here," I pulled her closer to me even though she was as close as she could be.

"How long was I asleep," she asked with a sleepy voice.

"Not long. An hour maybe," I kissed her temple. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. I didn't dream about anything," she sighed," I thought I didn't catch any sleep."

"You did, but not as nearly enough," I said and brushed my nose over her neck, breathing in the smell of her skin and the gorgeous aroma of her hair. She always smelled like cherry and cinnamon, mixed with a gorgeous scent of her nourished flawless skin.

"I know, I think I should take a bath first. I can never sleep as well as when I'm clean," she said and got up.

After she'd gone to the bathroom, I took my phone only to see a new text message

I always keep my end of the bargain.

- X.

"Son of a bitch!" I said through gritted teeth not wanting to alert Melody. Then I stood up, and dialed the number, nervously pacing across the room, when he answered. "Listen to me, you piece of shit, you're going to pay for this so bad. You have no idea who you're dealing with.... Oh, yeah? Well, I'm gonna threaten as much as I want to, because you didn't respect our deal. I specifically told you not to... No, no, no, shut the fuck up. You were not supposed to do a single thing, and now you're gonna suffer some serious consequences. You should really watch your back," I said and hung up throwing the phone on the bed.

I pressed my hands against my face and squeezed it hard, trying to control myself from screaming out of anger. I huffed and puffed, pacing from one corner of the room to another, trying to figure out how to tell Melody that all of this was my fault. Or if I should tell her at all. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut. It's not like she could ever find out. I was so afraid she would hate me forever if I admitted this to her. But she has such a big heart, maybe she would be able to understand I arranged everything before I fell in love with her. Well, at least before I was aware of my love for her, anyway. I never intended for her to be this traumatized. All I wanted was for Xander to scare her a little, but only because I thought our life together wouldn't be bearable. After we reconciled at the wedding, I changed my mind, and tried to cancel that stupid arrangement, but that idiotic bully wouldn't accept it. It would be best if I just kept all this to myself. At least for now, Melody is far too fragile for any more bad news.

Melody's POV

I stepped inside the bathroom, unzipped my jumpsuit, and just let it slide of my body, leaving it down on the floor. I turned to the mirror and looked at myself, only to be greeted with the most horrible face ever. My mascara smeared all over my cheeks, my lipstick all fade out, and this mess of a hair needed some serious untangling and washing. I immediately splashed water over my face, scrubbing it roughly to clean all the filth of that man's hands. I could still feel that huge palm covering my mouth and all I could think about was washing all that stench off of me. I brushed my hair next, walking towards the bathtub and filling it up. I needed a little bit of alone time in a warm bath where I could think about everything.

I put in a little bit of essential oils, some bath salt, and a lot of bubbles to make me relax. It was all I needed to feel at ease, for at least a while. I stepped inside and sat down, grabbing a loofa to clean my entire body. As I was tracing the sponge over every little inch of my body, a million thoughts ran through my mind. Who was that man? What was he saying when Jared started punching him? Why would he even attack me, when Jared wasn't that far away, and I could have easily screamed his name if I hadn't been that petrified? He wasn't rushing to do anything, so he probably wasn't gonna rob me, or molest me, otherwise he would be in a much bigger hurry, given the circumstances. How safe was my life with Jared anyway? He is rich, famous, and people of his kind tend to be a real pain in the neck for jealous people who were not as fortunate. I could easily be kidnapped this very moment, or tomorrow, or while I'm shopping alone. Everybody knows I'm Mrs. Leto now, and I'm the perfect target for all the people who wish to harm Jared. Just as I was falling deep into my thoughts I heard the door open and Jared peeking inside. I smiled and he entered the bathroom, walking slowly toward me.

"How are you feeling," he asked as he squatted next to the bathtub placing his forearms on the ridge of the tub and leaning his chin against them, looking me with such worry.

"Not bad," I answered and smiled a little still feeling tense and alert.

"Would it feel a little better if I helped you with your bath," Jared took the loofa from me and started to rub my shoulders, my neck and my chest with it.

"It absolutely would, thank you," I said and enjoyed his gentle touch. He circled the loofa all over my chest, going up my neck, then to my shoulders and my back as I pulled up and allowed him to reach the rest of my upper body.

I leaned in and bent my legs, wrapping my arms around them I rested my head on my knees, as Jared slowly washed my back. His touch was so tender and full of care I wanted to melt under it, right then and there. Then he left the sponge and took me by my shoulders so I would straighten up.

"Mind me joining you?" he whispered in my ear.

"I thought you'd never ask," I answered and scooted down a little, to make some room for him.

Taking his pants and shirt off quickly, he undressed completely in a matter of seconds, and sat right behind me. Wrapping his arms around my body, Jared took me in his embrace letting me lean back against his chest. This was it. The place I never wanted to leave again. His body enfolding tightly around mine as if he never wanted to lose me, and me holding onto his embrace like my life depended on it. All I needed was to feel safe again and Jared was the only person who could offer me security, care, love and hopefully for more than just a year. Now I know for sure that I don't want this marriage to last for just a year. I wish for us to stay together till death do us part.

After we've stayed cushioned to one another for some time, Jared kissed my cheek and straightened us up, so he can pour water over my hair and wash it for me. He started massaging shampoo so fondly into my scalp, as if he would break me if he pressed any harder. I felt like a delicate little bird and Jared sensed it too. Every touch, every rub was tenderer than the previous and I suddenly felt incredibly safe. After washing my hair, he quickly washed his body as well, so we could go to bed as soon as possible. Once he took care of me so nicely, he stepped out of the bathtub, put on his bathrobe, and helped me get out. Wrapping me in a bathrobe and lifting me up, Jared wanted to carry me to bed in his arms. Picking me up from the floor so strongly, I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled my nose into the crook of his neck breathing in his scent. I never wanted to leave his embrace. He stopped for a while and looked at me, as I lifted my head up to meet his piercing blue eyes. He kissed my lips gently, brushing his nose against mine afterwards.

Once he tucked me in, Jared laid next to me and pulled me closer to him once more. It seemed to me like he was going to spoon me every time we went to sleep. If I didn't know any better, I’d think he needed to have me close to him as much as I needed him next to me. Falling asleep knowing that you have someone to watch over you and offer you comfort and protection was one of the best feelings in the world. I managed to calm my nerves very quickly, and after our breathing became in synced, both Jared and I fell asleep.

The first microsecond of the alarm sound woke me up, and I blenched feeling my heart beating fast. Apparently, I’was gonna be a light sleeper from now on. Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself down and the fact that Jared’s body was still pressed tightly against mine gave me more comfort. I rolled toward him slowly, trying not to wake him up, but as I looked up to his eyes, they were already watching me. I smiled and he did the same.

“Morning, wifey,” Jared said and caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. Putting a strand of hair behind my ear he slowly kissed my lips, as his hand lovingly cupped my cheek.

Breaking this sweet soothing kiss I said, “Morning hubby,” I kissed the palm of his hand and he kept brushing his thumb over my cheek.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did actually. Having you hold me the entire night was all I needed for a good night’s sleep,” I said and felt my heart skipping a beat. My God, I was falling for Jared so hard it felt unreal.

“Same here. Knowing you’re right here next to me, helped me sleep like a baby too. I’m not leaving you alone for a second anymore.”

“That would make going to the bathroom really awkward,” I said and giggled.

“You’re such a geek...” he said and chuckled, “OK, you get to go to the bathroom alone, but that’s where I draw the line.”

“Deal,” I said in a sleepy voice yawning a little.

“I know you’d probably like to stay in bed all day long,” Jared said while I nodded like a little girl hoping to get her wish come true, “but we should catch a flight to our honeymoon, remember.”

“Oooo, yes, a honeymoon, that you won’t tell me where it is,” I frowned my face and pouted hoping to get at least some kind of information from Jared.

“Nice try,” Jared said and flicked my nose, “but it has to be a surprise. So, get your sexy ass out of the bed and pack, so we can finally start enjoying our married life,” kissing my forehead Jared got out of the bed and started dressing up while I took a few more seconds to stretch in bed before I did the same.

Chapter 21

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louhilainen · 8 years ago

Text

Better late than ever, chapter 3. FINAL

Here is the final chapter! Sorry for taking so long with this, I had trouble with this chapter and I lost my motivation for a while. I also started my work and haven’t got much time after work to do anything. Okay, I started drawing after a long break, which takes surprisingly lots of time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the final chapter!

****

“Here you are, milady. Please enjoy your breakfast.”Jakob placed in front of Corrin a generous sized breakfast; a piping hot, scrambled eggs, bought from a market, with greasy sausages and bread rolls, baked by Jakob, fresh from the oven.

“Oh, Jakob, you spoil me too much these days. But I’m not complaining.” She flashed him with a smile and took a knife and fork to her hands.

“You need all the energy you can have, since you are going to lead the trip to out realms.”

“We are just going to collect some food and utensils from the village. We should be back before late afternoon.” She took a bite of sausage. “It feels good to do simple, logistic tasks like that for a change. We have been fighting too much lately, so I like to give breaks for the army whenever we can afford it.”

After his birthday, the army had been involved in numerous battles. Fighting was starting to make its toll on soldiers, so breaks like this were good for their morale as well. Jakob thought he saw Lady Corrin looking tired these days as well.

“But milady, weren’t you just shopping the other day?” Butler teased her, trying to light her mood and take her mind elsewhere.

“That doesn’t count, we didn’t even buy anything!” Corrin quickly retorted.

While chatting with her, Jakob turned around to pour her some tea. Jakob had woken up earlier than normal to cook her breakfast than as the logistic group had to leave early. It had taken an enormous effort for Jakob just to rise from the bed to sit on the bed’s edge. Eventually the thought of his mistress leaving weak with hungry had finally gave him enough motivation to hurry to the kitchen, where he prepared Corrin’s breakfast. He had even added mushrooms to scrambled eggs. Of course, he had made sure not to smell mushrooms by wearing a scarf on his face while frying them.

Corrin stopped chewing her food and turned her head to Jakob. “Wait, Jakob, there’s mushrooms in the eggs.”

“Yes, there was surplus of them and I knew they would go well with the eggs. I hope you have not grown tired of them?”

“No, I haven’t. But you hate them. Don’t you find it nauseating to cook them?” Corrin looked at Jakob in wonder.

“Well, I don’t particularly enjoy it.” He admitted. “But I knew milady would enjoy them.”

Corrin was silent for a while. Butler wondered had he done something wrong after all.

“Thank you, Jakob.”She said in a quiet voice and continued her meal. Jakob was perplexed a bit of her behaviour, but decided to let it go. Maybe she was nervous after all from the upcoming trip despite her peppiness.

Corrin sipped the last of her tea. “Thank you for the breakfast, it was delicious. Do you mind doing something else for me before I leave?”

“You need only to ask, Lady Corrin.”

“I want to have my hair in different way than usual.”

“I see. Then I ask your ladyship to graciously step to the vanity.” She usually kept her hair by check wearing her favourite hair band, so her asking for a different hair style was a change from usual.

Corrin jumped up excitedly and almost skipped to her vanity, where she sat down to the step. Jakob stood beside her, took a comb and started to comb her long, almost white hair.

“What does our esteemed customer require today?” Jakob said in a playful voice.

“Do you remember that lady we saw the other day?” He nodded. They had visited quickly one of the villages in the outrealms as Corrin had wanted to visit the shops. She was curious about many things other people found normal, after spending most of her life in a lone castle. Jakob remembered it vividly, as Corrin had noticed passing lady’s hairstyle. She had her hair in a large bun, with a plait around it and a ribbon. “I want to have hair like she had! Can you do it?”

“Hmm…. Milady’s hair is challenging, but I will do my utmost best.” Although Corrin’s hair was soft, it was wavy and never quite stayed in place. That’s why princess usually kept her hair free with just a headband.

“If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you!”

Jakob blushed from the compliment.

“You really shouldn’t shower your retainers with compliments like that all the time, Lady Corrin. Servants are fickly people, they can get too prideful and haughty if their master puts them on a pedestal all the time.”

“I thought you couldn’t get any more prideful than you already are! You once said you would manually extract the fangs from a dragon's jaw for me!” Corrin teased.

“Milady, that was not being too prideful, I was being simply honest.” Jakob said humbly.

With them bickering playfully, Jakob started to work through her hair. The hairstyle was a bit complex, but he had an idea how the hairstyle was to be made. Luckily he had made sure to learn how to do different hairstyles when he was younger. It was time to put those skills to work. He handled her hair with care, making sure not to pull too hard. Sometimes his eyes wandered to the bare, white nape of hers and every time Jakob had to pull his gaze back to his task.

Jakob finished with tying a blue ribbon around the plait and handed Corrin a small mirror.

“Does this look satisfactory, Lady Corrin?”

“It looks more than that! Thank you, Jakob!” Corrin used the small mirror to admire his work from the large mirror. It did look good on her, Jakob allowed himself a feeling of accomplishment. Jakob had made sure not to leave any lose hairs hanging and had made every step of the hairstyle carefully.

“I really should be going, I don’t want to make others wait for me.” She rose from the chair and turned to face Jakob. “Thank you again for the breakfast and the hair.” She said while looking into his eyes.

Jakob blushed a little from his mistress’ sudden proximity and stepped back and bowed to hide his embarrassment.

“No need to thank me, milady. I’m simply doing my duty.”

“Yes, I know.“ Jakob couldn’t see her expression, but thought her voice sounded… different? “Well, I’m off! Have a nice day Jakob and see you later!”

“As you, milady. Have a safe trip.”

Jakob could hear Corrin walking briskly to door and grapping her sheath. When Corrin had closed the door, Jakob raised his head and looked to the door.

Jakob turned to table and started to collect the dirty dishes. After his birthday, he felt they were closer than ever. While they had lived in the Fortress, he had been a close friend of hers, sharing her worries and joys. In turn, Corrin had treated him with friendliness and familiarity that usually was not reserved for mere servants. When war had started, he had become one of her confidents. But now there was a certain easiness, relaxed feeling in their relationship. When he was a child he had vowed to become her butler, her retainer. His dream had come true, he had a certain place by her side. He was among the most trusted persons in her life, save Lady Azura and her siblings. Jakob should have felt content and satisfied with that.

So why did he did not feel satisfied? When he was with Lady Corrin, he felt some kind of… yearning. But could he possibly want, when he had everything he had sought for? Sometimes he could feel something vague yearning for his attention, but Jakob brushed those feelings in a hurry. He buried them carefully deep inside him.

****

Late afternoon, Jakob started to get worried. Lady Corrin and the rest of soldiers should have been back already. He was not the only one who noticed this as there was a buzzled confusion around the castle, soldiers talking to small groups in hushed voices with arms crossed. He saw Princess Camilla with worried expression her on the courtyard and decided to approach her.

“Princess Camilla. May I speak with you?”

“Is it about Corrin?” Camilla knew Jakob was utterly loyal to her younger sister. “I admit, it’s worrying they haven’t returned. Ryoma, Xander, Hinoka and I had a talk about it and we decided to send soldiers after them.”

Camilla had hardly finished her sentence, when a portal to the outrealms opened. People began to gather around the portal, but not too close to hinder their arrival. Carriages, meant for transporting food arrived first driven by silent looking soldiers. There were signs of burns on carriages with looked were results of magical attacks. Jakob’s heart leapt to his throat. Has Lady Corrin been hurt? Prince Leo was the first royal to arrive from the portal. He looked pale, but there were no visible wounds on him.

“We were attacked on the village, we need all the healers to heal the wounded!” Leo shouted and waved his hand to the direction of the barracks reserved for injured. Jakob heard Camilla gasping. Carriages were not transporting food as was theirs original purpose, but the wounded instead.

Jakob ignored the order and stayed to watch the portal anxiously. He needed to see Lady Corrin emerging from the portal himself, it was unlikely she was among the wounded. Finally, few infantry soldiers walked in leading the horses and he could see Lady Corrin. Her armour looked bloody and there was weariness on her face, but she did not look wounded.

Jakob and Camilla rushed to her side at the same time.

“Sister, darling, are you hurt?” Camilla embraced her sister, while Jakob tried to look for any possible wounds on her body.

“Lady Corrin, are you alright?” Jakob asked concerned.

Corrin embraced her sister back weakly.

“Oh, both of you, I’m fine. Jakob, please go heal with the others.”

“What about you milady, do you require healing?” Jakob stepped closer to his mistress. Camilla petted her hair while whispering comforting words.

“No, I’m fine. I need to talk with Camilla. Don’t worry about me, really. The wounded need you right now.” She smiled, but corners of her mouth fidgeted nervously.

Jakob could not defy her any more. Relieved she was not wounded he hurried to the barracks. He figured the situation must have been bad, like the last time his healing was urgently needed. He was a healer, but not that good as Elise and Sakura, so his healing was not always required.

Butler grapped a healing staff from the doorway of the barracks. He could already see Felicia and Azama tending to the wounded lying in beds, but no Sakura or Elise was seen anywhere. Usually Princess Sakura was in charge of healing, directing other healers in their work, but now he himself had to make fast decision who needed healing the most. He saw Silas sitting on bed’s edge holding his bloody arm awkwardly in his lap with a pallid face.

“Oh, Jakob. I was pretty careless...” Silas breathed heavily as Jakob stepped closer to him.

“I can see that. Hmmp, no doubt you were doing something reckless, idiotic and heroic at the same time.” Jakob inspected the wounded arm closer, making sure not to touch the wound. The knight’s arm looked pretty bad, but Jakob had seen worse and knew Silas would be alright as long as he started healing.

“Haha, you really are cold…” Silas smiled weakly, sweat drops dripping on his forehead.

“What happened?” Jakob started to concentre his magical power on the healing rod.

Silas grimaced. Healing, which consisted of stopping the blood flow and closing the wound was actually not a pleasant feeling, despite the outcome was welcome. “It was a trap… There were enemies waiting for us in the city. They managed to separate us and went for the healers and carriages on the back. Luckily Corrin had placed few soldiers near them, but Elise had to take part in battle as well. She was hurt pretty badly, so Princess Sakura is healing her.” Silas fell silent after his tale.

Even if Princess Elise was gifted tome user, she was not suited for front lines, like her older brother Leo. She usually was in the rear, healing and unleashing her magic attacks from a safe distant. This must have been the first time she was hurt.

Jakob understood now why Lady Corrin had seemed strange and why she wanted to talk with Camilla, to tell her the unfortunate news. He decided he should see her later in the evening, but now he had to focus on the healing.

*****

Healing had lasted for a good time. It was late night when Jakob knocked the door to Corrin’s quarters.

“It’s me, Jakob. I have brought tea for you milady, may I come in?”

Jakob heard light footsteps approaching and the door opened. Corrin was standing before him, in her usual night gown her hair down.

Jakob slipped through the door. “I heard what happened, it must have been awful.”

“Yes, it was.” Corrin turned around and walked to her bed where she sat down wearily. Jakob closed the door carefully after him. “But you know what? Even with all the fighting, my hair didn’t budge at all. Maybe I should keep my hair always like that in a battle.” She smiled a bit, but her light voice sounded forced.

“Lady, Corrin. I’m here for you, if you wish to speak about it.” Jakob placed the plate to the table.

“Well, I guess I do feel little… shaken about today. The enemy had prepared a smart trap for us, for a while things looked pretty dire for us.” Corrin’s gaze was on the floor, her hands gripping the edge of the bed.

“There’s no point feeling shame about your actions, from what I heard you did your best in a dire situation.” He had gathered the general picture about the battle from the wounded. How Corrin had quickly gotten realised the graveness of the situation and with Leo, had made a quick plan to turn the battle to their favour. No one was blaming them, but thanking them for their fast reaction.

“Yes, I talked to Xander and Ryoma about it. They said I did my best. I know that… They don’t blame for anything… or for Elise’s wounds.” She pursed her lips together, her lower lip shaking. “But I just… Elise decided to follow me, her big sister, since she trusts me and wants to help me. I can’t help but to feel responsible for her.”

Jakob hated seeing her mistress miserable like that. He sat to next to her.

“Milady. Princess Elise and your siblings, all the others, they follow you because they believe in you. You are not forcing them. They are aware of the risks, even Princess Elise, young she is.” Jakob said reassuringly.

“I know, I know.” She breathed in. “It’s just I’m so tired all the fighting.” She put her hands on her face. “I thought I had gotten used to this… Fearing for my allies lives and wondering it this will ever stop…” But I just hate… all of this!” Her voice broke down.

Jakob was taken aback. The last time he could remember seeing her like this, when she had made that fateful decision between Nohrian and Hoshidan forces. He did what he couldn’t even dream to do in normal circumstances. But this was for Lady Corrin’s sake, not for his. He put his hands around her and Corrin put her head across his chest, sobbing quietly. He hoped his heart would not start to beat too fast. Her shoulders shook a bit while Jakob petted her hair gently.

“I don’t think one can get used to this. But all the fighting will stop one day with certainly.” Jakob said after her shoulders had stopped shaking.

“How can you be so sure?” Corrin looked at him with teary eyes.

“Why, that’s because milady will succeed at ending this war. Have you forgotten? It was you, Lady Corrin who brought two nations together that were practically at war with each other. When we stepped out of the castle, I never imagined it would lead to this. You leading both Hoshidan and Nohrian forces. Honestly, it’s like from one those fairy tales we read about in the Northern Fortress.” Jakob chucked. “You can, and you will lead them to victory.” Jakob took his hands from her back and placed them on her shoulders.

Corrin’s eyes widened a bit and she finally smiled, not the weary kind of smile, but a genuine one, that made Jakob’s heart skip and ache at same time.

“Oh, Jakob, you always know right words to say.” She wiped her tears. “I will do my best to be worthy of them. You really are the best butler, Jakob.” She did something that he had not prepared himself, could not prepare himself. She leaned in close to Jakob’s face and gave him a light kiss on his cheek before he could comprehend what was happening.

Jakob’s muscles stiffened completely and his mind went blank.

“Um, Jakob, are you alright? I’m sorry, I… I was out of bounds.” She looked at him almost frightened.

“No need to apologize, milady.” Jakob cried out hastily. “You are still upset about today. It’s… natural that you feel touched.” He jumped from the bed desperate to put some distance between them.

“I suppose I do…” Corrin’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Do you require any further services tonight?” Jakob faced his mistress with a posture which Gunther would have given an approving nod.

“No, I don’t think so, but…”

“Well, then I’ll excuse myself. Good night, Lady Corrin. Please enjoy your tea, I’ll collect the tea kettle in the morning.” Jakob headed to the door with a completely natural pace and closed the door after him with a pleasant smile leaving Corrin still sitting on her bed with dumbfounded expression.

Jakob descended the stairs feebly taking support from the railing. The kiss could hardly been called romantic. It had been a quick perk on the cheek, barely even worth the mention. It had left him completely shaken, with dangerous thoughts floating from his mind. Did I really want to stay her side as just her butler? Was there something I wanted, but dismissed it completely? Maybe, always have wanted but I could not admit? Jakob could feel something growing stronger inside him, no more satisfied being buried inside him and yearning for his attention.

***

Jakob had one of the worst nights in his life. The more tired he became, the more his thoughts spun in his head. He had slept for few hours fighting a useless battle against his own mind. When the dawn came, he felt relieved but at the same time horrified facing his mistress.

Jakob had steeled himself to act as normal as he could when he came to serve her breakfast. Corrin seemed recovered from the last night, and welcomed him with her normal warmth and openness. Jakob joked with her like usual, trying to keep his voice natural and light.

“Umm…Jakob, about that kiss last night…” Jakob almost froze while raising tea kettle, but forced himself to continue pouring her tea. He had feared she would want to return to the subject.

Jakob poured her tea and chuckled. “Milady, you are far too innocent.” He hoped his hands would not betray him. “That could hardly be called a kiss. After all, it was your way of showing appreciation for me”. Jakob did not know what he was saying anymore, all he knew he had to say something, to pretend her kiss had not affected him in any way.

“Yeah, that’s right. Thank you for last night. I was so tired, I don’t know what came over me.” Something strange flashed in Corrin’s face, but Jakob was too occupied with his thoughts not to delve deeper. “I only hope you were not… offended.”

“Of course not!” Jakob cried out. “You could never offend me, milady. And allow me to say this, Lady Corrin, there is no need to thank me. I was merely doing my duty as your butler.”

“Yes, your duty. I know. I can always count on you, Jakob. What I would do without you?” Corrin smiled and sipped her tea.

Somehow Jakob managed to serve the rest of the breakfast. In the kitchen safe from other peoples’ eyes, he buried his hands on his face. What on earth am I doing? Why do I always talk about duty with Lady Corrin? A horrible realization became to wake up inside him. Always proclaiming about butler’s duties… Whom he wanted to hear it? It was for me, not for Lady Corrin… He needed to remind himself he was serving her out of loyalty devotion a servant feels for his master. The reason why he asked her to be allowed stay at her side as a butler… It had not been borne out of loyalty. He had wanted, he needed to stay near her, but he had mistaken his status. He had not wanted to have a place by her as her butler. I wanted… to be something more to her than just her butler.

Following days, Jakob could not look at Lady Corrin straight. Jakob cursed himself feeling this way. He was a butler. A servant, a retainer, a commoner, not even worth taking consideration romantically. She was a princess, of royalty, a leader of their army. He had promised to serve her. Falling in love with her was not certainly proper, it could not be allowed. He did serve her normally, but inside he felt like a tired actor trying to preserve to the end of the performance. He could see Corrin was starting to suspect something, looking at him with puzzled eyes, when he left her after having done necessary tasks.

Next time he left her with excuse of having more tasks to attend to, he could see hurt in her eyes. He hated himself for making her feel like that. He knew he couldn’t pretend rest of his life. He would have to leave. The only question was when. Jakob was in his room wondering how to tell lady Corrin devastating news, when he heard a knock on his door

“Jakob, it’s me. Are you there?” It was lady Corrin.

For an instant, Jakob considered staying quiet, then cursed himself for his cowardice. He went to open the door.

“My lady, it’s rare to see you in this part of the castle. How I own this pleasure?” Jakob hoped his smile was not too forced.

“I need to talk with you. Can I come in?” Corrin solemn expression made his smile wafer.

“Please, come on in. How kind of you to visit your servant.” Jakob stepped in to make room, and Corrin came in. She looked around his tidy room. It was pretty bare, but comfortable looking. Few books on his night table, a small cabinet.

“Jakob, I’m going to ask you directly.” Corrin turned around to face her butler. “Have I offended you somehow? You seem so distant lately. Honestly, you don’t seem like yourself at all.” Corrin crossed her arms. “Is it… because of that kiss?”

“No, well…” Jakob was taken aback by her directness. The kiss was not entirely unrelated, but this went deeper than that. Jakob pursed his lips together. He had wanted to prepare himself better, but now was as good time as never.

“I’m sorry, Lady Corrin. But I have done something… very unprofessional. It’s something I should have told you about a long time ago.”

“What are you talking about? No matter what, we can work it out! So please, tell me what’s wrong!”

I’m afraid we cannot work this one out, Lady Corrin…

“It’s about our talk on my birthday.”

Corrin nodded. “Yes, what about it?”

Jakob breathed in. “Even if I asked to stay be your side as your butler, I have to take my words back. I am so very sorry, Lady Corrin.” Jakob looked at Corrin with great regret and sorrow.

Corrin paled. “WHAT! No no no no! Why, Jakob, tell me why!” She seemed almost to be in panic. He had not expected Corrin to react so strongly and felt sorry for her. But he had to keep going.

“When you told me how much I mean for… I was happy. But at the same time,” Jakob gulped, “There was a part of me that felt regret because it was plain to me you would never see me more than as a family member at most.”

Corrin froze. “Jakob, wait, do you mean…?”

Jakob steeled himself. She deserved to hear his reasons. ”Yes, Lady Corrin. I have always been so fond of you, of your strength, kindness and really, everything about you! I told myself a long time I have mixed up feelings of love and admiration, since Lady Corrin is my mistress. But I cannot lie to myself anymore. I’m… in love with you, lady Corrin.” Jakob whispered his last words. He averted his gaze, not wanting to see her face, which was without a doubt filled with pity and apologetic.

“…I cannot believe what I am hearing.” He heard Corrin say blankly.

“It is understandable. I have failed you. I—cannot serve you like this. I will resign myself from your service.“

“You leaving, that’s… that’s impossible! I could not go another day without you!” There was suddenly more emotion in her voice.

“You don’t know how sorry I am to betray your trust like this. But I will have to leave the first thing in the morning.” Jakob turned around, hoping she would leave him. He didn’t want to draw out this any further than was necessary.

Corrin grapped his arms and forced him to turn around. “Wait Jakob, don’t say that! You don’t even want to hear my response?”

That was the least thing he wanted to hear. ”I do know you care about me. You treat me like I am your family member and a friend. I’m grateful about that, truly.” Jakob averted his gaze.

Corrin put her hand to his cheeks and turned his head to face her. ”That’s where you are wrong!” He looked into her eyes. For some reason he could not see any pity in them at all. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, like they were dancing. It was like she was actually… happy. “Because…. I love you too!”

Jakob could not comprehend what he heard.

“My lady. Are you sure you know what you are saying?” Jakob asked uncertainly. It must be a mistake… She must have mistaken…

“Of course I know! Honestly, Jakob. You couldn’t ever tell that I had feelings for you?”

Jakob had of course given a thought about it. But it had always been just that, a thought. Lady Corrin returning his feelings was like his most beautiful fantasy had come true. “Milady has… feelings for me?”

Corrin started to look more annoyed than moved. “That’s what I just said. I thought I was dropping pretty obvious hints, but looks like they weren’t enough. I thought you didn’t like me back… So I just…. stayed quiet. I was too afraid you leaving me. I told myself that having you as my friend would be enough for me.”

All Jakob could do was to stare at Corrin and wonder how on earth this was possible.

Corrin gripped his arms harder as if she was determined to keep him in his place and fixated her gaze on Jakob.“But since you were honest with me, I can finally be honest with you and myself. I love you, Jakob! You are the reason I have good memories even in a place like The Northern Fortress. You are… my home.” She whispered the last words softly, smiling shyly.

Jakob could feel his perceptions of the world reordering itself. The world where Corrin cared for him just as her friend and her butler was starting to disappear, to make room for a world where it was possible for a butler and a princess…

“Um, Jakob. I know it’s sudden, but please don’t stand there with your mouth open! Talk to me, please!” Corrin seemed a bit worried by Jakob’s unreceptiveness.

Jakob could only echo Corrin’s previous words. “…I cannot believe what I am hearing.”

“Hey, I already said that!” Corrin cried.

Jakob burst to laughter and put his hands on her shoulders.

”Jakob! Stop laughing!” Corrin looked like she was at her wits end, her cheeks red for embarrassment and furrowing from annoyance.

“Forgive me, lady Corrin. But to think we were both thinking the same thing. Hiding our real feelings and being afraid of things changing. If I had known about your feelings, I would have confessed to you much sooner.” Jakob chuckled caressing her shoulders.

Corrin annoyed expression disappeared and made room to a soft smile. “You are telling me now, Jakob. Please, call me just Corrin.” She roused her hand on Jakob’ and squeezed them softly.

“Very well, Corrin. If I may be so bold as to embrace you…” This time it was Jakob’s turn to blush.

“You don’t even have to ask.” Corrin pressed her head without any hesitation to Jakob’s chest and he put his arms around her.

Having Corrin in his arms felt better than anything in his life. He caressed her hair, pulling her even closer, smiling to himself. He felt Corrin’s hands gripping his back.

“From now on, will you stay be my side as my beloved?” He heard Corrin murmuring shyly. He could tell by her voice that she was probably smiling as widely as he was.

“I will, Corrin. We will always be together.” Jakob promised. I absolutely, will never leave your side, my love.

“Thank you, Jakob.”

Jakob had heard Corrin thanking him a million of times before. Thanking him for serving her tea, thanking him for healing her, thanking him for being her friend, but never had her thanks made him feel so much gratitude for just being alive.

****

I think one of my problem with writing is that I my English vocabulary is limited. Although I like to think I’m pretty good in English, this is completely different writing that what I have done before. Of course, I haven’t written any fiction before so I guess that’s not surprise xD I have actually lots of ideas for fanfics, but I’m afraid to do them, since I know they would not be at that level I would want them to be. But I won’t get better at writing if I don’t work for it.

#jokamu #joker fire emblem #kamui fire emblem #fire emblem jakob #corrin fire emblem #fire emblem fates fanfic

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burclay · 6 years ago

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Informal Education: Chapter 1

Olivia Caliban is gearing up for another year of being the librarian at Sunnydale High School. Responsibilities include looking after books, looking after a vampire slayer and her friends, and keeping her lesbian relationship with the computer science teacher a secret from her boss. Not to mention three unenrolled orphans are asking to use her library.

AO3 Series

As the school year drew to an end, there was a feeling of undeniable relief in the air, a feeling of “we survived this year and maybe we’ll even make it to the next one.” Buffy was going to LA to see her father, and, after helping to bury the Master’s bones in a local forest, Xander and Willow were gearing up for a summer of doing absolutely nothing.

For Olivia and Jenny, this meant a state of relative peace: some of the first that either of them had experienced since arriving in Sunnydale. It also meant spending a lot of time researching evil forces and worrying about the children they had resolved to help. Olivia spent nearly the entire summer reading, either at Jenny’s house or her own, and Jenny spent nearly the entire summer (with the exception of the week she spent at Burning Man, which they had both agreed Olivia would absolutely hate) telling Olivia that she didn’t have to know everything about demons and vampires and magical forces, while Olivia argued that it was best to be prepared for all possibilities. By the end of the summer, she felt much more confident in her ability to aid and advise Buffy, and entirely ready for school to start again.

Jenny and Olivia drove to school together on the first day. Olivia was quite glad for the companionship-- she remembered walking to school on her first day at Sunnydale High the year before, feeling so completely alone in such a sea of activity. It was nicer, now, to be able to kiss Jenny before getting out of the car, a small smile on her face, and to walk up the steps to Sunnydale High together.

“I wonder when we’ll see the kids,” Jenny said.

Olivia didn’t have to ask which kids.

“I’m sure they’ll show up soon,” she said. “At the very least, Willow will be in the library later, if she isn’t in one of your classes first, of course.”

And of course, they didn’t have to wait that long. As they walked into the school’s courtyard, they were immediately approached by Buffy, Willow, and Xander.

“Hey, guys,” Jenny said, high fiving Xander. “How was your summer?”

“I believe ‘how were your summers’ would be more accurate,” Olivia remarked, smiling at the children. “It’s nice to see you all.”

“Summer was boring,” Xander said. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh, but, Buffy slayed a vampire last night!” Willow said brightly.

“And I’m sure all of my classmates have been dying to hear about it,” Buffy said, a sarcastic edge to her voice.

“Vampires?” Jenny asked. “I thought the Hellmouth was closed.”

“Still a demon magnet, I guess,” Buffy said, shrugging.

“She’s right,” Olivia agreed. “The residual energy will attract monsters regardless. I told you that my summer of supernatural research would come in handy.”

“You’re such a librarian,” Jenny said, but her tone was affectionate, and when Olivia looked over at her, she saw Jenny looking at her with soft eyes.

“You’re right that that is the profession I have chosen,” Olivia said. She said it just a little too loud in an attempt to cover her blush.

“Anyone else getting some weird mind meld vibes between Ms. Caliban and Ms. Calendar?” Xander asked.

“Well, we do work fairly closely together,” Olivia said.

“Oh, yeah,” Willow said with a giggle. “Close.”

“Well, kids,” Jenny said with an air of haste, “it’s time for class, and I don’t know what kind of teacher I’d be if I didn’t make you go.”

“I have your class first,” Willow said happily.

Olivia waited until Buffy and Xander were out of earshot before she touched Jenny’s elbow and said, “I’ll walk you to your classroom.”

She thought she caught a smile on Willow’s face as they started off.

After dropping off Jenny and Willow in Jenny’s classroom, Olivia made her way to the library. With a deep breath, she pushed the doors open, and stepped into the space.

She was surprised to see three children already there, sitting at the table in the middle of the room, deep in conversation.

“Hello,” she said, looking at them curiously. One of them looked almost old enough to be a student at Sunnydale High, but the youngest was only a baby, and therefore clearly not yet at an age for high school.

The children all looked up. Hastily, they stood, the older girl holding the baby in her arms.

“Hello,” she said. “We’re terribly sorry to intrude. I’m Violet Baudelaire, and this is my brother, Klaus, and my sister, Sunny.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Olivia said. “My name is Ms. Caliban. I’m the librarian here at Sunnydale High. Is there anything, anything at all, that I can help you with?” She wasn’t sure, but it seemed like these children had more on their minds than just which books to check out.

“Actually,” Klaus said, “we could use some help.”

There it was.

“We’ve been taken here by a man we barely know,” Klaus continued. “Our parents have died in a terrible fire, and we have nowhere to turn.”

The baby-- Sunny-- made an unintelligible noise.

“What my sister means,” Violet said, “is that we thought we’d come to this library to see if we could find any books that could help us.”

“Are you not students?” Olivia asked.

“I’m technically enrolled at the middle school,” Klaus said, “but if we’re being honest, there’s not much that they can teach me there.”

Sunny made another noise.

“What my sister means is,” Klaus said, “she’s a baby, and therefore much too young for formal education.”

“And our guardian says that there’s no use in education for a girl like me,” Violet said, a little sadly.

Olivia gasped.

“That’s preposterous,” she said. “What on Earth did he mean by that?”

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny exchanged a look.

Sunny made another noise. Olivia was beginning to realize that Sunny said quite a lot, and if her acquaintance with these children was to continue, she would have to learn how to decode those noises.

“What Sunny’s saying,” Violet said, “is that it’s complicated. At the time of our parents’ death, Mr. Poe found us and claimed that I had the potential to become something called a Slayer. We haven’t been able to find very much information about the Slayer beyond what Mr. Poe has told me, and I’m not altogether sure that he’s a reliable source.”

“Well, you’re welcome to the library’s collection,” Olivia said. “And I may have a few volumes at home that will be of note to you. Oh, and I suppose a side note, related to the idea of a home, may be in order: where are you children sleeping?”

“Mr. Poe’s house,” Violet said. “He’s trying to find somebody to adopt Klaus and Sunny, but--”

“But we won’t go anywhere without Violet,” Klaus finished.

Sunny made another noise. Klaus and Violet smiled at her.

Olivia made a snap decision.

“I realize that I barely know you,” she said, “but you are always welcome to come stay with me if you need to.”

“Are you sure?” Klaus asked. “As you just said, you barely know us.”

“I can tell that you are intelligent children who are in need of support from kind and caring adults,” Olivia said, “and I am in the business of being a kind and caring adult, when possible. I may not have a lot of room, but I’m sure I’d be able to work something out. I’ll give you my address, and you’re welcome to find me anytime.” She was aware that this was quite a lot to do for these strangers, but Olivia had needed someone to do all this to her once. She hadn’t gotten it, but she could at least provide for others.

“Thank you,” Violet said. “Really. You’re too kind. Is it all right if we stay here until Mr. Poe comes to find us?”

“Of course,” Olivia said. “Please, make use of the books. The students rarely do.”

“Thank you,” Klaus said, already moving to the bookshelves.

“If you’d like,” Olivia said to Violet, “I also happen to know the current Slayer, and I’m sure I could introduce you. And although I’m not sure that she has many more answers than you do, I have personally done quite a bit of reading in order to better support her, and I would be happy to try and answer a few of your questions.” She looked at Sunny. “And perhaps your sister would like something to occupy herself while you’re here?”

“She likes hard objects she can bite,” Violet said.

Sunny grinned to reveal four very impressive teeth.

“Of course,” Olivia said. “I have some sticks that I was planning to whittle into stakes. She’ll have to be careful not to get splinters.”

“My sister is an expert when it comes to biting,” Violet assured Olivia. “She could even make the wood into stakes for you, if you like.”

“You’re under no obligation to do that,” Olivia said to Sunny. “In fact, I quite enjoy whittling them myself.” She slid her backpack off her back and pulled out the wood she had brought with her. She handed one to Sunny, who immediately put it in her mouth with a smile.

“Thank you,” Violet said. She set Sunny down on the table. “I’m going to help Klaus with his research, if that’s all right.”

“Absolutely,” Olivia said. She pulled a few books out of her backpack that she had taken home for the summer and been planning to reshelve today. “You might find something of note in these. I’ll just be over there getting the library set up for the school year, but please let me know if you have any questions or need help finding anything.”

“Thank you,” Violet said again. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.”

“There’s no need,” Olivia said. “I’m glad to have you here.” She retreated to her desk, keeping one eye on the children as they sat in the middle of the room and read together. They seemed nice, and the way they worked together would have been sweet if Olivia didn’t know all too well what it was like to need to work like that.

At the beginning of third period, Jenny walked in, did a double take at the three strange children in the room, and made her way to Olivia.

“Don’t remember adopting a family,” she said, leaning against Olivia’s desk. “You didn’t go and get three kids without me, did you?”

“No,” Olivia said. “They’re orphans, and they came here because they need help.” She glanced at the children, who were looking at them curiously, and said to Jenny, “Join me in my office?”

A moment later, Olivia was making tea in the kettle in her office, saying, “You don’t have class, do you?”

“No, this is my break,” Jenny said. “So, those kids?”

“Were in the library this morning when I came in,” Olivia said. “Apparently their parents died in a terrible fire and they’ve been brought here by a strange man. The oldest girl, Violet, might become a Slayer, like Buffy-- I’ve read up a little on the Slayer line, but I’m afraid I don’t quite know as much as I’d like. But it seems that there are a number of girls around the world who might become Slayers, and there are spells and such to find and track them.”

“So, we are adopting a family,” Jenny said.

“Not as such,” Olivia said, “in that I’m not sure I can see a particular avenue for it at the moment. But these children are in need of a positive adult presence in their lives, and I, for one, intend to provide that as much as I can.”

Jenny wrapped an arm around Olivia’s waist.

“Of course,” she said. “You wouldn’t be Olivia if you didn’t.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said.

“And I’m with you,” Jenny said decisively. “What’s three more kids, in the grand scheme of things? Can I meet them?”

“I see no reason why not,” Olivia said. “I suspect they’ll be glad to see another friendly face.” She offered her hand, and Jenny took it with a smile.

They dropped hands as they walked into the library proper-- these kids seemed nice, but Olivia and Jenny weren’t exactly risk-takers when it came to the closet. The kids looked up as they came in, and Olivia was careful not to get too close.

“This is Ms. Calendar,” she explained. “Ms. Calendar teaches computer science and is a good friend of mine. Ms. Calendar, this is Violet, Klaus, and Sunny.”

“We’re very pleased to meet you,” Violet said, holding out a hand for Jenny to shake.

“Did you say computer science?” Klaus asked. “I’ve been curious about computers for some time now.”

“You’re not a student here, are you?” Jenny asked. “You might be able to sit in on one of my classes.”

“I’m enrolled at the middle school,” Klaus said. “But they’re covering things I read about years ago.”

“Well, then,” Jenny said, “the offer stands. My introductory class is just after lunch.”

“Thank you,” Klaus said.

“Violet, are you a student here?” Jenny asked.

Violet shook her head.

“I should be,” she said.

“Violet’s guardian has told her that there’s no use in education for a girl who might become a Slayer,” Olivia explained.

Jenny snorted.

“Sorry,” she said. “That’s just-- so completely untrue.”

“I know,” Violet said.

“Can we take over?” Jenny asked Olivia. “We’ve been doing okay with Buffy, right? We can just take over?”

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny exchanged a glance.

“I think Mr. Poe was intending to train Buffy as well,” Violet said.

“Unfortunate,” Jenny said.

“He might be a good deal more qualified than us,” Olivia said.

“Doubtful,” Jenny said.

“He seems to know quite a lot about vampires,” Violet said. “But I’m not sure he knows--”

“How to take care of children?” Klaus asked.

Violet nodded.

“Well, we know things about vampires,” Jenny said. “ And we’re very supportive. We’ll see what Buffy chooses.”

“I don’t think she gets a choice,” Violet said.

“The girl has super strength,” Jenny replied. “She can’t exactly be forced.”

“You might want to rein it in a little if you meet this Mr. Poe,” Olivia said to Jenny.

Jenny had an almost dangerous smile on her face.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll rein it in.” She checked her watch. “I should probably prepare for my next classes anyway. See you later, kids. Olivia.” She brushed her hand against Olivia’s in farewell, and then she turned and left.

“I like her,” Klaus said, a small smile on his face.

“So do I,” Olivia said, her eyes still on the doors. She blinked and turned back to the children. “Anyway,” she said. “Is there anything you need?”

“I don’t think so,” Violet said. “You’ve already been too kind.”

“I’m not sure I’ve been altogether kind enough,” Olivia said, but she backed away and went back to her desk. After about ten minutes, Violet approached.

“Ms. Caliban?” she asked.

Olivia looked up. “Yes?”

“I was wondering-- you said you know about the Slayer.”

“A little,” Olivia said.

“Would you be willing to tell me more?”

“Of course,” Olivia said. “Come around here and I’ll get my books.”

Violet settled in with her at her desk, and Olivia began to answer her questions.

It was in the middle of this that Buffy burst into the library, a strange man with her.

“Ms. Caliban,” she was saying as she walked in, “this strange man says he’s my new Watcher and I don’t know if I-- who’s this?”

“Oh, Baudelaires,” the man said in the tone of someone who has just found a trinket he had forgotten about. “You have no idea how hard I’ve been looking for you.”

“I think I can imagine,” Violet muttered next to Olivia.

Buffy had the same idea. “Can’t have been looking that hard,” she said. “Given how you took a pretty massive detour just to come find me .”

“Well, you are the Slayer,” the man said. Baudelaires, I must insist you come with me. And Klaus, why aren’t you in school?”

“Excuse me,” Olivia said, “but who are you?”

The man turned to her.

“I’m terribly sorry to intrude,” he said. “My name is Mr. Poe. I am Vice President of Orphan Affairs at Mulctuary Money Management. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Olivia said. “And how are you associated with the line of the Slayer?”

Mr. Poe did a double take.

“Buffy did say you knew of her Calling,” he said.

“That’s a way understatement,” Buffy said. “Ms. Caliban, Mr. Poe says he’s my new Watcher and I said that I wanted to talk to you or Ms. Calendar about it first.”

“Your Watcher?” Olivia asked.

“It is my job to train and guide the Slayer,” Mr. Poe said. “I have myself been trained, and am equipped for all scenarios.”

“Including those in which the Slayer wants a life outside of her Calling?” Olivia asked, glancing at Violet.

“Yes, well, there shouldn’t be any need for that,” Mr. Poe said.

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked.

“The Slayer must be focused on her duties,” Mr. Poe said to her. “Any distractions cannot be tolerated.”

“That’s inhuman,” Olivia said, because it was clear from the look on Buffy’s face that she was thrown. “You can’t walk in here and tell a sixteen-year-old girl that she must give up her life.” She looked at Buffy. “Buffy, remember you always have a choice.”

“I know,” Buffy said. She looked at Mr. Poe. “I’m not sure we’ll be needing your services.” She turned to Olivia. “Willow and Xander and I all have fifth period free. See you then?”

At Olivia’s nod, Buffy turned on her heel and walked out. Olivia smiled to herself as Mr. Poe turned to her.

“This is not the last you’ll be hearing from me,” he warned. “The Slayer should be in the hands of trained adults.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Olivia said.

Mr. Poe gave her what would most likely have been a hard stare if he hadn’t been interrupted by a coughing fit. Olivia waited patiently for it to end, and then she turned to the Baudelaires and said, “It was a pleasure to meet you, children. You will always be welcome in this library.”

“Thanks,” Klaus said.

“Really,” Violet said, standing up. “Thank you.”

She moved out from behind the desk to rejoin her siblings, and the three of them followed Mr. Poe out, leaving Olivia alone to think.

She hoped she’d see more of the Baudelaire children.

#btvs #asoue #jenny calendar #olivia caliban #jenny x olivia #writing #fic #i'm going to start using this blog again kids #informal education

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legault · 8 years ago

Text

Collateral Damage

Chapters: 1/1 Wordcount: 15,217 Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Mild Violence Relationships: Xanlow (Xander/Laslow), various background relationships Characters: Xander, Laslow, Odin, various other members of the Nohrian royalty with cameos by Ryoma and Saizo Additional Tags: Mild Canon Divergence, Grief, Revelations Route, Near Future, Post-Canon, Character Study

Summary: Xander does not realize the depths of his feelings for Laslow until it is too late.

Fill for @dorkpatroller for the @xanlow-exchange for the prompt “I thought you were dead”

Also read on AO3!

“If, after the war, I were to go somewhere. Somewhere far away... If you never saw me again... Would you be angry? Would you be able to forgive me for abandoning you?”

“...Yes. I would.”

Xander had never expected Laslow to stay with him forever, had been prepared to lose him someday.

“Oh? Truly?”

“It is not your company I require. Only that you continue to draw breath. I just want you to ensure you live. Whatever your true name or appearance.”

What he had not prepared for was losing Laslow, not to a happy life in another world, but to a lonely death of the fields of battle.

Xander had long since become inured to the thought of killing, even killing people who in all likelihood had done nothing but wrong except being in an army that wasn’t Nohr’s. It was part of his job as a prince and a warrior, and he found neither delight not sorrow in the deaths of the men and women he struck down with his sword.

He barely registered the bite of his sword into flesh until he came upon the sniper who may or may not have killed Laslow. Before he brings Seigfried down, Xander makes eye contact with the man, who looks small and powerless under Xander’s imposing figure. He sees terror in the man’s eyes, but behind the fear he is sure he sees recognition, which Xander takes as acknowledgement that this is the man who, with one arrow, cut off his right hand and a piece of his heart.

It’s very possible that this is not the man who shot Laslow, that the fearful recognition in his eyes is simply terror at facing the man who has been fighting as if possessed, following in the wake of a woman who is all the more dangerous because she is not possessed.

But there is no doubt in Xander’s mind that this is the man, or at least there would be no doubt if there was anything in Xander’s mind other than waves of wordless emotions, raw and overwhelming.

The sniper had only shot Laslow once, but Xander strikes him, two, three, ten times, every thunk of blade into the already-dead man’s flesh a cry of rage.

He keeps stabbing, hacking, slashing until he feels a hand on his shoulder and Camilla’s voice.

“Xander. It’s over. He’s dead.” Xander is not sure if she’s talking about Laslow or the sniper but either way she is right, he is the prince of Nohr and right now he is covered in blood and…oh, is he crying? With a note of curiosity as if this mourning prince is someone other than himself, Xander realizes that he is weeping.

The news has obviously spread to the rest of the group. Peri is bawling, the type of tears that are loud and uncomfortable for both the cryer and everyone around them. Corrin looks pained; he has worked so hard thus far to keep from losing a single member of their army and now…now they’ve lost one, and even though it’s not Corrin’s fault, the burden lays heavily on him. It’s frankly miraculous that it’s taken this long for them to see their first casualty. It was only a matter of time, but Xander wishes that Laslow had not been the one taken.

Elise throws herself at him, clinging to him as her tears mix with the blood on his armor. Laslow had been well-loved by most of the group, in spite of-or perhaps because of-his incessant flirting.

Everything since Laslow fell has seemed like a bad dream, but what drives it home that this is his reality is seeing Odin standing frozen, looking shell-shocked and for the first time ever, completely silent.

Several other members of the army are clustered into groups, crying or murmuring and looking nervously at Xander, uncomfortable with his lack of composure.

Elise’s clinging arms bring him back to earth, ground him in the reality that he is there even if Laslow is not and there is an army of people who look to him for guidance.

Xander takes a deep breath, tightens his arm around Elise, and speaks.

“Remember,” he says, voice frustratingly hoarse. “We are still at war, and in war, sacrifices are inevitable. Laslow is not the first soldier, retainer, or friend that I have lost.”

Xander’s voice breaks, along with his heart, but he soldiers on. “He is not the first, but gods willing, he will be the last. Laslow fought for the same reason we all fight: for peace in Nohr, in Hoshido, in Cyrkensia, in Valla, in every corner of the continent. I for one will be fighting all the harder to honor Laslow’s sacrifice, and I hope you all will do the same.”

Xander inhales, a deep, shuddering breath. “There will be time later,” he exhales, breath flowing out of him like tears, “for grieving. But for now, we must continue on, and right now, we need to make camp so everyone can sleep.”

Xander feels exhaustion seeping into his bones and he casts a pleading glance at Corrin and Ryoma. Luckily they understand, and they start to gather everyone up, Ryoma rallying the Hoshidans and Corrin rallying everyone else as Xander tries his hardest to remain upright.

As they set up camp, more somberly than they ever have before, Ryoma comes over and clasps him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He says, kind without being overly emotional in the way that Xander hates. “I did not know Laslow well, but I know that if I lost one of my retainers, I would be beside myself.”

“Well, it’s not my first time losing a retainer, I’m almost an expert by now.” Xander smiles mirthless my. “I hope it is not something you ever have to experience.”

“And I hope this is the last time for you.” Ryoma squeezes his shoulder and leaves, and Xander is thankful, both for the comfort and for the fact that Ryoma did not try to linger.

Xander retreats to his tent and shuts the door. He had Laslow’s personal belongings brought to him; right now, they’re sitting in the corner of the tent, calling to him.

But still, he hesitates. Laslow claimed to wear his hear on his sleeve, but he kept his secrets close and had a surprising number of them. Even though Xander longed to know exactly where Laslow came from, why he had a unique accent and even more unique style of swordplay, he did not ask. Laslow’s job was to support him, protect him, and stay by his side; unlike some royals, Xander had no illusions that his retainers belonged to him, body and mind.

If he looked through Laslow’s belongings, it would feel final; Laslow would truly be gone. But that was only irrational sentimentality. Death is already final, and Laslow is not here to be angry with him.

Compared to his comparisons, Laslow has very few belongings. Odin is a hoarder, of weapons and assorted miscellany; he names everything and once it is named, he refuses to part with it. Selena is a compulsive shopper, spending her entire salary on clothes and knick-knacks from every tiny town and major city they pass through.

(“I have to buy it.” She insists. “I need a souvenir to remember this place by.”

“My darling, you don’t need to buy half the continent. If you’re that worried about forgetting, I’ll bring you back here after this dreadful war is over.” Camilla promises, laughing.

“Oh, yes…” Selena’s face suddenly darkens. “After the war…”)

Laslow’s cloths are the first thing he finds, and well, if he thought this was going to be quick, he was dead wrong. Every piece of clothing smells like Laslow, who always smells of the cologne he wears too much of-rich, spicy, and entirely too aggressive for Nohrian tastes. Xander had always told him that he needed to wear less because he smelled like the inside of a soothsayer’s tent, but now he buries his face in the shirt in his hands and closes his eyes, tries to clear his mind enough that for a moment, he can pretend that Laslow isn’t gone.

A small bottle falls out of the shirt he’s holding, and Xander can’t help laughing. Laslow always brought small bottles of cologne and hair gel with him, even on long military missions.

(“A ladies man must always be prepared, milord.” Laslow had said in response to Xander’s incredulous look at his packed belongings. “As with any skill, flirting must be practiced constantly. Do you know what it would do for my reputation if I were to be caught looking ungroomed?”

“I wish you put half as much energy into training as you do into flirting.” Xander sighed, knowing this was an argument he would never win. “It doesn’t matter how nice you look if you die in battle.”

“I have no intention of dying, in battle or otherwise.” Laslow assures him. “I would never break the hearts of the lovely ladies of Nohr by dying.”

“Or me, Laslow.” Xander reminds him. “Strange as you are, I would be very upset if you were to die.”

“Of course, milord.” Laslow replies, voice almost imperceptibly rougher. “I have no desire to break your heart either.”

It does not sound like a joke and Xander does not treat it as one. “Then don’t, Laslow.”)

Xander dabs a bit of what he thinks is Laslow’s cologne on his wrist, furrows his brow when it stains his skin grey.

He inspects the bottle and sniffs his wrist, concluding that this is most definitely not cologne, but the color of grey is familiar somehow. Suddenly a familiar picture of Laslow laughing at him, too merry to be truly insolent, pops into his head and he realizes why the color is familiar.

“Hair dye.” He breathes. “Laslow, you fiend. What else were you hiding from me?”

He’s always suspected that Laslow had woven his personality together from a combination of innocuous truths, necessary lies, and half-lies that later turned into truths. Laslow is a terrible liar, but a fantastic secret keeper. Xander could always tell when Laslow is lying, but could never intimidate, wheedle, or pry the truth out of him.

Going through Laslow’s things suddenly becomes much more urgent, and Xander resolves to devote his whole evening to it. And if he happens to cry a little, in an entirely unprincely fashion, well, at least no one will be around to see it.

Laslow’s clothes are almost as colorful as Laslow himself, and it takes a long time to go through them because everything Xander picks up overwhelms him with memories.

This is Laslow’s favorite shirt, the one looks like a puffy quilt strapped around the body with two leather strips.

(“I just don’t understand it.” Xander says, staring at Laslow’s shirt like its a puzzle to solve.

“I’m disappointed, milord.” Laslow feigns shock. “I was told that you were fashionable for a crown prince, but you don’t even appreciate the style of shirt that’s all the rage in my hometown.”

“I’m not saying it’s not fashionable, I’m saying it makes you look like a puff pastry.”

Laslow smiles crookedly, cocks one eyebrow. “Milord, are you saying that I look…delectable?”

Xander snorts, “If that is the kind of line you use on the village ladies, I can see why you get rejected so often.”)

And this is the formal shirt in Nohrian style that Xander had given him to wear to formal functions. Why Laslow brought it with him to Valla is beyond him, since Laslow always complained about having to wear it.

(“Do I really have to wear this?” Laslow looks personally offended by the garment in his hand.

“Only for meetings with the King, formal dinners, things like that.” Laslow looks like he’s about to protest, but Xander cuts him off. “You already barely act like a proper royal retainer and I usually don’t make so. Could you please do this one thing for me?”

Laslow sighs, grudgingly acquiescing. “But it’s so dowdy! What will it to to my reputation as a ladykiller?”

“Trust me, that shirt could not hurt your reputation any more than your pickup lines already have. Stop being such a dandy.”

“Says the man who wears a frilly cravat into battle.” Laslow retorts.)

And this is…an outfit that Xander has never seen before. It’s made of light gauzy fabric and looks vaguely similar to a Cyrkensian dancer’s outfit, if they made Cyrkensian dancers outfits for men. The clothes themselves are simple; light, loose black pants mad of silky, almost translucent material and a black vest with intricate gold embroidery around the edges. Packed in a box underneath are a number of accessories, all in gold: wristbands and anklets, a slender belt, a pair of hoops with large spikes running along the edge connected by a length of fabric, a heavy looking necklace, and a single hoop earring.

Xander tries to picture Laslow wearing the outfit, but cannot get a clear picture in his mind. If he focuses, he can imagine the pieces: the vest, the belt, the wristbands. But when he tries to put everything together, the image slips away, and a fresh wave of grief hits him when he realizes that Laslow is gone and he will never get the chance to piece together the full image.

He quickly packs everything away, except for the hoop earring, which he tucks into his breast pocket. Xander had told Ryoma that he was almost an expert at losing retainers, and while it wasn’t quite at that level, he had developed a few rituals to honor his fallen retainers, one of which was wearing a token of theirs on a cord around his neck.

At present, he only had two; a ring, and a charm.

The ring was the family crest of one of his first retainers, who had been the only child of a prominent family. His family had hoped his appointment as Xander’s retainer would ensure the legacy of their family name; instead, the line had ended with him on a barren field just shy of the Hoshidan border. Xander feels the weight of it always, lying flush on the skin above his heart, heavy with the weight of generations that will never be born.

The charm is a small flat stone, washed smooth by the river where his second retainer had collected it when she was a child. She had etched symbols into both sides, symbols for protection and longevity that she had been taught by her grandmother, who had been a mystic and a healer. The charm had not done its job, had not protected her, and Xander wears it now, not for protection, but for remembrance.

Tomorrow, he resolves, he will find a string somewhere around camp, and Laslow’s earring will join the other tokens, the third and, gods willing, the last tribute necklace that Xander has to make.

Heart heavy and eyes damp, he continues to look through Laslow’s things, taking time to run his hands over every object, as if he can soak up any residual traces of Laslow left from the last time he touched them. It is painful, and he considers putting Laslow’s belongings aside, but the prospect of not having a task to focus his attention on is terrifying, so he does not.

As he continues his inspection, Xander turns away several visitors: first Camilla with her smothering comfort, then Corrin with his quiet pity. He sends Elise away as well, but eats the food she brings because he has no wish to make her cry any more today. Leo, bless him, seems to understand that Xander wants to be alone because he does not come try to comfort him. Peri, Elise tells him, insisted on joining the hunting party that caught their dinner and is now insisting on personally butchering all the animals that will be their breakfast.

The day passes without him noticing, and evening finds him thumbing through a leather notebook filled with words in Laslow’s handwriting but in a script that Xander has never seen before when he hears someone calling “Knock knock!” from behind the flap of his tent. Knocking before entering is a Nohrian custom, but it only works if there is a door to knock on. At tents, most normal people simply announce themselves and ask to be let in.

He yanks the flap back, ready to snap at whoever it is, because his heartstrings are pulled taught like a bowstring and tear ducts are sore from overexertion and he has already been interrupted too many times by people who don’t understand that he’s too proud to be vulnerable around other people so he’d rather grieve alone.

Xander is surprised enough to see Odin there that he forgets to yell at him, although in retrospect, it explains the strange greeting. Odin is quite a sight, hair wild and eyes red, holding a bottle of liquor in one hand and wearing what appears to be Niles’ cloak.

“Ah, Milord! Pardon the interruption, but I have spent the afternoon grieving my fallen comrade and after my eyes had run dry of manly tears, I realized that as Laslow’s liege, your sense of loss may be overwhelming. As Laslow’s bosom companion, I have come offering companionship.” Odin says, never one to speak briefly when a speech is possible.

Odin’s voice, like his appearance, is slightly off. “And liquor!” He adds, raising the bottle and his voice. “Let us drown our sorrows in the sweet embrace of intoxication!”

Xander pulls him inside, suspecting that Odin may already be in the embrace of intoxication. Normally he would send him back to Leo to deal with, but Odin is probably the only other person who feels the loss of Laslow as keenly as he does, if not more.

Odin collapses ungracefully to the floor by Xander’s hearthstone and sheds his cloak to reveal yet another cloak, one that looks a lot like one of his brother’s.

“Odin, is that Leo’s cloak?”

Odin inspects the cloak as if he is surprised to find himself wearing it. “Ah, indeed it is! Milord Leo is such a noble master, the only one that the great Odin Dark could ever call his liege. He insisted that I wear it, so I don’t 'Catch my death wandering around half naked in the cold like the idiot that I am.’”

“Yes, that sounds like Leo.” Xander sighs. “Well, alright then. Let me join you in...the bosom of lady liquor, or whatever it is you said.”

“Milord, there’s hope for you yet as a wordsmith!” Odin passes him the bottle and Xander drinks deeply. In general, he prefers wine or not to drink at all, but the burn of the liquor feels appropriate.

Odin, meanwhile, is inspecting the cloak that he took off when he first entered the tent, looking confused. “When did I get two cloaks?”

“You came in wearing them both.” Xander reminds him.

“Ah yes!” Odin exclaims, remembering. “Niles made me take his cloak as well because we’ve already lost one retainer today and he doesn’t feel like losing another to something as banal as the cold. A noble gesture, but today Odin Dark’s heart is so cold from grief that the freezing wind cannot make it any colder.”

“I didn’t take Niles for the caretaking type.” Xander comments, deliberately putting off talking about Laslow until he is a little drunker.

“Most people don’t, but I have discovered his hidden potential! Behind his wicked tongue beats a chivalrous and noble heart.” Odin reaches for the bottle, takes a long swig, and returns it to Xander. “Although that is not to say that his wicked tongue does not have it’s uses.”

Xander does not drink very often, and his head is starting to feel slightly light, which he thinks it is time to bring up Laslow.

“Not that I am not grateful for...Lady Liquor here, Odin, but I am curious why you came to me. Why not seek the comfort of Leo and Niles, whom I understand you have an...intimate relationship with?” Xander finds himself asking.

Ok, perhaps it is almost time to bring up Laslow. He wants desperately to talk about Laslow, but is also desperately scared, and Odin’s strange relationships are a much safer topic.

“My bond with Milord Leo and Niles is indeed a bond for the ages, a bond that the bards will surely sing about for eons to come, a bond that is consummated in spirit, mind, and yes, in body.” Odin flushes a deeper red. “But how did you come to know about our bond?”

“Laslow read your diary.” Xander replies easily, seeing no reason to lie as Laslow is not here to get angry with him.

“Laslow, you dastard!” Odin exclaims, much louder than is appropriate. “You beautiful, noble dastard.” Odin’s breath hitches as he chokes back a sob. “I cannot believe that he is gone.”

“I cannot either.” Xander says.

They sit in silence for several moments, passing the bottle back and forth until Xander finds it empty. He peers inside it, as if he can will more drink into being with his gaze, and Odin pulls another bottle out of his robe.

“I chose to come to you,” Odin says, passing Xander the fresh bottle. “Because you are the only other person in this world who loved Laslow as much as I did.”

“Mmm.” Xander says nothing, because he has never thought of it in those terms, but he supposes that it is true.

They drink in silence, passing the bottle back and forth until it is almost empty. Xander feels lightheaded, feels sleepy, feels like he’s not quite here, which is preferable to being here, because Laslow is not here. He picks up the handwritten notebook he was looking at earlier and flips through it idly, staring at the words he cannot read.

Odin’s eyes flicker towards the movement of Xander’s hands, grow wide when they land upon the book that Xander is holding.

“Is that Inigo’s diary?” He exclaims, speech just on the edge of slurring.

“Who is Inigo?” Xander asks in reply, confused.

Odin face morphs into a look of panic. “Oh, Inigo is...Inigo is a character in a book! The book is called...Inigo’s Diary! It was Laslow’s favorite book from our childhood.”

It’s a truly terrible lie, but Odin looks pleased.

“Odin.” Xander says, not having any of it. “Was Laslow’s real name Inigo?”

Odin’s pleased expression falls away, face pale. “Why would you ask that?”

“Laslow once told me that he bears a false name and a false appearance.” Xander fixes Odin with the stern look he adopts when he’s acting as Xander, Prince of Nohr and he wants to be obeyed. “I’ll ask again. Is Inigo Laslow’s true name?”

The look seems to work, because Odin sighs and gives in. “Yes.”

“Inigo.” Xander repeats, testing the name out, feeling it on his tongue. “Inigo. Laslow. Inigo.”

The name is strange to his ears and on his lips, but it feels true, and another piece slots into place in the puzzle that is Laslow.

“Inigo of the Indigo Skies.” Odin says, voice sounding far away. “The false name thing really messed me up. Laslow of the Indigo Skies really doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“You could try Laslow of the Azure Skies.” Xander suggests, lightheaded from the alcohol and the revelations.

“I did.” Odin laughs bitterly. “But he didn’t like it. Said he preferred Indigo Skies.”

“Wait, did Laslow-” Xander stops himself, confused over which name to use, “Did Inigo really change his appearance when he came here?”

Odin snorts. “Inigo is a silver-tongued scoundrel. His claims of a false appearance are greatly over-exaggerated. All he did was dye his hair.”

“I know,” Xander says. “I found his hair dye.”

“Of course you did. I can tell that you found his cologne as well.”

Xander flushes. He may have dabbed a little bit of Laslow’s cologne on his neck earlier, after making sure that this time, it was really cologne. He also may have teared up a little bit when the scent first his his nose, but Odin didn’t need to know that.

“So what color was Laslow’s hair originally?” Xander asks, changing the subject.

“I’m not sure I should tell you.” Odin says.

“What if I ordered you to tell me as the Crown Prince of Nohr?”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a citizen of Nohr.”

“No, but you are fucking the younger prince of Nohr, and I think that makes you close enough.”

Odin’s mouth, already open for a retort, snaps shut, teeth clicking audibly. “I think,” He says, swaying gently. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

“I think we both have.” Xander agrees, trying not to slur his words. “Anyway, I think I’ve lost the bottle.”

“It’s gone?” Odin exclaims. “How can it be gone when it was just here moments ago?”

Xander thinks that he could say the same thing about Laslow, and when he meets Odin’s eyes, he knows that they’re thinking about the same person.

“Pink.” Odin says. “Inigo’s hair was pink, like his mother’s.”

“That would suit him.” Xander says, trying to picture it.

“It did.”

“Odin, would you tell me more about Laslow? About Inigo?” Xander asks.

“I would be honored to share that information with you, milord. But only,” Odin shakes his finger at Xander. “On one condition.”

“What is that?” Xander asks, looking at Odin’s finger rather than his eyes.

“Entrust to me the care and keeping of the sacred keepsake that you hold in your princely hands.” When Xander looks confused, Odin adds, “Give me Inigo’s diary. You can’t read it anyway, it’s in our native language.”

Xander considers the offer. “If I give it to you, will you tell me what he wrote in it?”

"Odin Dark can make no promises as to that. I cannot betray the confidence of a man who was closer to me than a brother.” Odin says. “However, I will share my stories of the exploits of Odin Dark and Inigo of the Indigo Skies.”

Xander considers arguing, but thinks better of it, passes the book to Odin. Laslow had his secrets in life, and he deserves to have them in death. Besides, Odin is right; he cannot read the diary and keeping the knowledge from Odin, who could read it, would be cruel.

Odin’s face light up when Xander gives him the book, and he immediately begins flipping through it, glancing at page after page. His face is nothing but raw emotion, pain and love and nostalgia wrapped up into one.

“No matter what world we were in, or what evils we faced.” Odin says quietly, looking at the book. “Inigo was the one person who was always by my side.”

Xander does not know how to respond to that, but he is saved from thinking of a response by a voice outside his tent.

“Brother.” He hears Leo saying, voice weary. “I’ve come to collect my retainer. I hope he hasn’t been a bother to you.”

Xander opens the tent flap to find Leo and Niles, standing outside.

“Not at all, Leo.” Xander assures him. “In fact, he’s been quite a comfort. We’ve been...bonding.”

“If by bonding you mean drinking, then I can tell.” Niles remarks, looking past Xander.

Leo give Niles a look and Niles clarifies, “I’m talking about Odin, not about your noble brother.”

As if on cue, Odin all but throws himself at Leo, who looks embarrassed at the fact that his older brother is seeing such a display of affection.

Xander, for his part, finds it sweet, although it does send a pang of loneliness through him to see his brother together with his two retainers when Xander himself has had that privilege wrenched away from him.

“Odin, didn’t you have two cloaks when you left?” Niles asks Odin.

“Odin Dark does not remember such trivial things as the whereabouts of garments!”

“Of course you wouldn’t, you barely wear clothes anyway.” Niles mutters. “Prince Xander, could I trouble you to look for an extra cloak in your tent? It happens to be mine, and this wretch is obviously not going to return it to me.”

“Of course.” Xander retrieves the cloak for Niles, who, for all his grumbling, immediately wraps Odin in it. Xander has never quite understood Niles, never understood his personality or why on earth his straitlaced brother had chosen a petty thief as his retainer, but Niles’ devotion to Leo had convinced Xander of the soundness of his morals, and his tenderness towards Odin only confirmed his impression.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Odin Dark.” Xander says. “I hope that we can do this again in better circumstances.”

Odin gives a vague hand wave of affirmation, either drunker than Xander realized or acting drunker in the company of Leo and Niles. “Likewise, Prince Xander.” Odin says, slurring his words significantly more than he had minutes earlier.

“I think we need to get him to bed.” Leo says, looking at Odin with exasperation and barely concealed fondness before turning a concerned gaze to Xander. “Will you be alright being alone, Xander?”

“Yes.” Xander says, and he hopes that it is the truth. “Thank you, brother. Goodnight.”

He closes the door before Leo can insist that he needs company, and listens to their footsteps as they walk away. He can hear their voices mingling, Odin’s loud and emphatic, Niles’ smooth and dryly amused, Leo’s warm and level. Images of himself listening indulgently to Peri and Laslow’s chatter spring unbidden into his mind, and he can feel the tug of longing in his chest like a physical pain. He has never given much thought to his siblings’ retainers before beyond observing them to ensure that they will do their job adequately, but he hopes now that Leo appreciates what a gift it is to have both Odin and Niles by his side.

Xander finds the bottle he’d hidden from Odin, downs the rest of it in three gulps, and falls asleep in his clothes.

His sleep is restless and his dreams are chilling. He finds himself on the edge of a cliff, with Laslow hanging on to the edge, about to fall if not for the grip of his fingertips.

“Laslow, take my hand!” Dream-Xander calls, voice desperate, hand outstretched.

Dream-Laslow looks at him, amazingly unafraid for someone about to fall off a cliff.

“That’s not my name.” He says, and lets go, disappearing into the void.

Xander wakes with a start, covered in sweat. He’s had these dreams before, about Laslow or Peri or one of his siblings dying, but this one is worse because when he wakes up, Laslow is still gone, this time for good.

It is still dark outside and will be for many hours, but Xander does not go back to sleep.

Xander has lost retainers before, but it does not mean he is good at dealing with grief. After the loss of his first retainers, he had sworn to never lose another retainer in a fit of naive passion, and his grief at the loss of Laslow intermingles with anger at himself for letting it happen.

His earlier losses did teach him that a prince does not have the luxury of experiencing grief in slow, healthy stages that lead to healing, and he does not try. Rather, he experiences all of the stages at once and his grief settles into his bones and festers like an open wound throughout the rest of the war.

Frankly, Xander does not remember many specifics from the rest of their struggle against Anankos. He knows that they won, and he knows that they won partially because of him, and partially in spite of him. As Leo tells it, he and Peri tended to clear half a battlefield in a matter of moments, and then the rest of the army had to catch up to them before they were overwhelmed by the other half of the enemy forces. Xander is not proud of his actions or of the fact that his rashness endangered his family and comrades, but the rush of battle drowned out everything else, drowned out his pain and grief and his guilt, as well as any curiosity about the revelations that they uncovered along the way.

Off the battlefield, Corrin assures him, he carried himself with dignity and led as well as he could be expected to, considering the circumstances. Xander reflects that they are lucky that being a leader had been beaten into him from a young age enough that he could do it on autopilot, and if he faltered he had Ryoma and Corrin to step up and support him.

In the moment, every day had been a struggle, but looking back, he does not recall almost any moment between Laslow’s death and his own coronation with any sort of clarity. It is a shameful admission, but grief had made him remiss in his duty, his focus brought back only by the cold weight of his father’s crown on his head. It is ugly and ill-fitting, but it reminds him that he has a country to lead and cannot continue to limp through life like a wounded dog.

Bit by bit, Xander returns to the world of the living. Being the king is strange, although it is a role he has been preparing for since birth. And it keeps him busy; there are political advisers to meet, citizen requests to hear, diplomats to impress, soldiers to lead, and that is just the beginning. He thought that he was prepared, but suddenly every single person in the country of Nohr is depending on him, and he feels the responsibility keenly.

On occasions he is not surprised that his father went crazy after years on the throne.

Xander is well suited for the role, but he cannot say that he enjoys it. As a child Xander had resented the restrictions that being a prince had put on his life and freedom, but that was nothing compared to the life of a king. The sudden war and even more sudden peace with Hoshido in addition to Garon’s death had destabilized Nohr. Within less than a year of assuming the throne, he finds ihimself facing countless attacks on his character and right to the throne, two assassination attempts, one attempted coup, three small and one not-so-small peasant uprisings, and several small raids by their neighbors to the north.

At times, Xander longs to return to the time before Corrin was kidnapped by Nohr, before it had become evident that his father was not his father (but not too much earlier, not before Laslow, Odin, and Selena had appeared at court). But these times always pass, eclipsed by fifty different pressing issues, and Xander bears his burden stoicly and patiently.

“Xander, you’re too stressed.” Camilla tells him. “You’re strong, but even strong men have their limits. You need an outlet or I’m afraid you’re going to explode.”

“It’s fine, Camilla. I have an outlet.”

Camilla looks at him skeptically. “Who?” She asks, voice dripping with disbelief.

“What? No one.” Xander furrows his brow. “Wait, when you said outlet, you meant…sexually?”

Camilla looks at him like he is the stupidest person she’s ever met. To be fair, he might be. “Of course. I have Beruka and- I have Beruka. Leo has both his retainers. You had Laslow.”

“Laslow? No, Laslow wasn’t…we weren’t…” Xander struggles to find the words, unable to give voice to what she is implying. “Laslow liked women.”

Camilla rolls her eyes. “So does Leo, and he’s fucking both his retainers.”

“Does everybody know about that?”

“Everyone who’s looking. So not many. Don’t change the subject Xander, I’m even more concerned now. You’re under more stress than ever before and you have nowhere to release it.” She pats his shoulder like she used to do when they were children. “Think about it, brother.”

Xander does think about it, thinks about it and dismisses it. Sex just seems unappealing, and from a political standpoint, dangerous. A king is expected to have mistresses, but he is also expected to have a wife first, and although being king of Nohr has dictated every part of his life, he is not willing to give it that.

It is different for Leo and Camilla because they were not the king. Besides, their lovers are also their retainers, whose loyalty is first to them, then to Nohr, even if it was supposed to be the other way around. Perhaps if he had wanted to take Peri to bed, it would be acceptable, but neither he nor Peri found that idea appealing, Xander uninterested in women and Peri uninterested in activities that did not end in death.

If Laslow were still alive, then perhaps…

The thought occurrs to him often, and every time he pushes it aside. There is no use speculating about what might have been. Besides, he would not have been satisfied with having Laslow as an illicit lover, would want him as a partner in all things, and with Xander’s kingship and Laslow’s plans to return home to another world, that simply could not happen.

Xander may not have a lover to help him release his tension, but he has adapted to constantly being tense, and he copes in other ways.

When there are no military operations for him to head, he trains with Peri, using real weapons and real force until someone draws blood, at which point he knocks her sword to the ground in order to save them both. Peri has always fought like a woman possessed, and after she draws blood, she cannot be held responsible for following through to its logical conclusion.

Xander has no desire to die at her hands, so as soon as someone bleeds they trade their real weapons for wooden practice swords and alternate sparring and decimating training dummies until their muscles ache.

Sometimes after training, Peri will cry and Xander will hold her, her tears mingling with their sweat and occasionally, blood.

“It’s not fair!” She blubbers, and Xander understands who she is talking about, agrees wholeheartedly.

Xander never asks Peri to be quiet or to stop crying, simply lets her wail until she has no more tears to cry. He himself does not cry around others, only in his own rooms and even then rarely. It is not that he does not want to cry, but rather that he feels that he is wound so tightly that if he lets himself go, even just a little bit, he may unravel completely, falling to the floor in teardop-shaped pieces until all that is left is a puddle.

When he feels like crying, over Laslow or over the stress of his position or both, he invites Odin to his chambers and they drink together and talk about Laslow. Xander calls him Laslow and Odin calls him Inigo, and they share stories of his exploits and laugh instead of crying.

Before Laslow’s death, Xander and Odin had not been close, but their shared loss had created a strong bond between them. It grows stronger when one day Selena disappears from court and does not return, even after Camilla and Beruka take to the skies to try to retrieve her. Camilla is inconsolable and Beruka is silent as always, but her silence is one of sadness and rage.

Odin is not angry, but Selena’s departure gives rise to new lines along his forehead and around his eyes, evidence of brows furrowed in worry or discontent.

“The passage to this world was opened to us by a powerful sage from our world.” Odin explains, too tired for flowery speech. “He said that the process was taxing for him, and he could only do it twice. Once for us to leave, and once to return. He gave us a charm that would let us signal him to let him know when to reopen the portal. Selena kept it, because she did not trust us. Whether she didn’t trust us not to use it to leave her behind or not to die and lose it, she never said.”

“Yesterday, she told me that she was going home, asked if I was coming with her. I told her that I was not ready, asked her to wait.” Odin continues, pursing his lips. “She refused, told me that she was not going to wait until one of us is killed in this world like Laslow was. There were...harsh words exchanged, and it appears that she chose to leave without me.”

“Where is she going?” Xander asks. He does not want Odin to leave him too, but he cannot wish anyone trapped in a world they did not chose. “Could you catch up to her before she returns?”

“The place where the portal will open is a long way from here, but she had a head start.” Odin shakes his head. “Besides, I think we both knew that I didn’t really want to leave.”

Selena’s departure has a ripple effect, and for a time Camilla and Leo barely speak, Camilla unable to forgive Leo for Selena leaving her while Odin stayed. Odin, for his part, visits Xander even more often. With Selena gone and Laslow dead, Xander is the only person who Odin can talk to about his homeland.

“Selena and I were never bosom companions,” Odin says, resentment tinging his voice. “However, she was the only living soul who shares the firsthand knowledge of the glorious land of our birth.”

Odin begins to tell Xander more about Ylisse, although most of his stories involve Laslow. Odin tells him stories from their childhood together, from their adolescence, of their escape from a fallen world, of reuniting with versions of their parents who were not yet their parents. It is almost unbelievable, but Odin is a good storyteller, and Xander cannot help but be drawn in.

Xander notices that all of Odin’s stories conveniently omit Selena, but he does not bring it up.

On Laslow’s birthday, the first since his death, Odin and Xander shirk their duties for a full evening and pay tribute to Laslow in the ways of their homeland. In Nohr, it is customary to pour ale on the ground to honor fallen comrades who have returned to the earth, and Odin and Xander do so, pouring Laslow’s favorite ale from a nearby tavern into the earth in the far corner of the Nohrian gardens, where Odin tells him Laslow used to go to practice dancing.

In Ylisse, Odin tells him, every region has their own customs, but in the dark timeline that he and Laslow had been born into, he and his friends had created their own traditions to honor their dead parents, writing wishes and memories of the deceased on paper and setting it aflame. Odin invites Xander to join in, and Xander writes I’m sorry you did not get the chance to grow old. and I hope that you are smiling, wherever you are. Odin writes something in his native language and does not offer to translate.

They cast their slips into the fireplace in Xander’s chambers, and as the papers curl up and burn, Odin chants something softly in a language that Xander does not understand.

Afterwards, Odin translates an entry from Laslow’s diary for him. Odin rarely shares anything that Laslow wrote, but this is a special occasion, and he makes an exception, reading part of the entry that Laslow had written on his birthday the year prior.

It is so interesting to celebrate birthdays the Nohrian way. I feel as if I have grown quite accustomed (perhaps a bit too much so) to the Nohrian way of life, but celebrations always remind me of my past. It was very funny to see Odin confuse the lyrics to the Nohrian birthday song! We don’t sing any songs to celebrate birthdays in Ylisse, so of course he wouldn’t know them. Luckily, the Nohrians all think Odin is strange anyway, so he can get away with much more than I can and no one will think twice about it.

Even though I feel quite homesick thinking about the pastries mother used to make on my birthday back home, the day was quite nice overall. Xander gave me the day off from my duties, although the free time came with the stipulation that I spend it with him rather than going off to the tavern to “terrorize the local ladies,” in his words. He seemed rather awkward about it, which is endearing. I do not mind having to spend the day with him; in fact, it is a privilege. I can get rejected by women any time, but I do not often get the chance to spend time with my liege in that manner.

It appears that Xander did not think about what to do beyond spending time together, and he looked quite embarrassed when I brought it up. He is so proper and composed all the time, so it is quite rewarding to see him flustered! I have often wondered what he would look like if I tried one of my pick-up lines on him-as a joke, of course. But alas, as much as I long to see him blush, I do not think that would be a good idea.

But I am getting distracted. Since Xander seemed to have no plans, I asked him to teach me how to play chess. He seemed amazed that I did not know how, but I couldn’t tell him that we don’t have chess in my homeworld. Instead, I claimed that I don’t have a head for games and never learned, which is true. I am terrible at games, unlike Odin, the lucky bastard. Chess is not entirely dissimilar to some games we play back home, but I have always been abysmal at those too. I cannot say that I will ever be good at chess, but seeing Xander try to maintain his patience in the face of my ineptitude was quite touching.

After we played, Xander gave me some small gifts. My favorite among them is an earring that looks like the horn of an animal. Very few Nohrian men have pierced ears, so most of the earrings they sell here are very feminine. I can’t imagine how Xander came to acquire this one, because I’ve never seen anything like it. It is simple, but obviously high quality, and not to flatter myself, but I think it suits me quite well.

Xander also gave me another one of those hideous shirts that he claims are fashionable here in Nohr. If those are fashionable, then Nohr does not understand what fashion is. Of course I will wear it because it is a gift from my lord, but I may choose to wear it at a time when not many ladies are there to see me. I swear, sometimes I wonder if milord does not want me to have any success with the women of Nohr...

The only bad thing about the day is that it reminded me of how increasingly torn I have become. I miss my mother and father dearly, as well as my friends and companions back in Ylisse, but I feel more and more reluctant at the idea of parting with Nohr, and I must admit it is because I serve a fine liege. I suspect Odin and Selena feels the same way, although we have never discussed it. Well, I suspect Selena feels the same way; I know Odin does, given the intimate nature of his relationship with his liege and his fellow retainer.

Ha. It is funny that despite the nature of Odin’s relationship with his liege, I am still reluctant to let him know of the deep and growing fondness that I have for my own...

Odin closes the book and there are a million questions that Xander wants to ask, but he is afraid of some of the answers, so he chooses a safe one.

“Did Laslow refer to you as Odin even in his journal?”

“No,” Odin says. “But since I am relaying the tale, I have the right to call myself what I please. When I entered this world, I shed my old name and became Odin Dark, because I am consumed by the darkness inside my soul!”

“Sounds about right.” Xander says. “Does the darkness in your soul also command you to wear almost no clothes?”

"You are lucky that you are the king of Nohr. Most who dare to mock Odin Dark do not live to tell the tale!”

Xander laughs, and Odin joins in, and for a moment Xander almost imagines he can hear Laslow laughing with them.

That night Xander dreams of Laslow, and for once it is a good dream. Usually his dreams of Laslow are wrong somehow; if he looks like he did in life, his voice is unfamiliar. If his voice is familiar, his hair or his eyes are a different color. If everything else is right, then the way that dream-Laslow moves will be subtly wrong. Xander thinks that perhaps hearing Odin tell him things about Inigo may confuse him, every new piece of information revealing more about Inigo while obscuring something about Laslow. They are the same person, but sometimes it is hard to remember how they fit together. Xander finds that he is beginning to find it hard to picture Laslow as he was in life, and he fears that someday he will not be able to call up a memory of Laslow, will be left only with Odin’s stories.

But that night, that night Xander dreams of Laslow, wearing the shirt that Xander gave him, playing chess badly and laughing about it. In this dream Laslow does not die, and Xander does not want to wake up.

As months go by, Xander begins to finally adjust to being king of Nohr. His position no longer fits him loosely like his father’s coat did when he was a child playing dress-up; rather, it fits him as snugly as his armor and he wears it with as much confidence. It may not thrill him like the heat of battle, or fulfill him like leading his men into battle can, but he was born the crown prince of Nohr and with that came sacrifices that he did not choose to make; as with justice, he has come to terms with the realization that fulfillment is not for him.

The only part of kingship that does not eventually click into place is the fact that he only has one retainer. Xander had always anticipated that when he became king, it would be with Peri to his left and Laslow to his right. He feels Laslow’s loss as keenly as he felt his presence, and it knocks him off balance. When they first placed the crown on his head, the weight of it almost brought him to his knees.

When Xander first began to study swordplay at the tender young age of six, his teacher was a grizzled knight who was a veteran of one war and countless smaller skirmishes. He had lost his dominant right hand years ago, and rather than retiring he learned how to fight with his left and went on to defeat hundreds of men who had the advantage of two hands.

Xander, still too young to fully understand social conventions about what was acceptable to ask, had immediately peppered him with questions about what it was like to lose a limb.

“Does it hurt?” Xander asked, eyes wide. “Can I see the stump? Did you see the bone when it got cut off?”

“You ask too many questions, kid-...I mean, Prince.” The man had replied, gruff but patient, holding out his right arm to show Xander.

It was not much too look at, just skin and a long scar where they had sewn the wound together. Xander could not articulate why, but it made him uneasy, more because of what was not there than because of what was.

“To answer your other question, no, it doesn’t hurt much nowadays. Although it hurt like a b-...hurt like a dog when it happened.” He told Xander, shaking his head slightly. “But sometimes, when I first wake up or when I forget that it happened, I can feel my hand as if it’s still there. I can flex my fingers, I can make a fist, I can feel the cool morning air. It feels so real that sometimes I don’t remember that it’s gone until I try to pick something up. It hurts then, sometimes, but that may just be disappointment.”

It’s unsettling to see the distant look in the older man’s eyes, and Xander almost regrets asking.

He hadn’t been able to fully comprehend what the man was talking about back then, but now he thinks he understands. Sometimes when his mind is caught up elsewhere and too busy to feel the Laslow-shaped hold in his life, he forgets that Laslow is gone. He’ll find himself walking towards Laslow’s old chambers, a story that he wants to tell him fresh on his mind.

Of course, when he opens the doors, Laslow is not there. No one is there, because the rooms are meant for one of Xander’s retainers and Xander has not chosen a replacement, refuses to choose another retainer to fight and die for him.

Phantom limb pain is what his swordplay teacher had called the sensation he had described. Physically, Xander has all of his limbs, but he cannot shake the feeling of phantom Laslow pain.

He invokes the same comparison when Leo advises him to choose another retainer.

“Brother, I know that you still mourn Laslow, but you should take another retainer.” Leo tells him, eminently practical. “You’re the king of Nohr now, and it is customary to have two retainers, not to mention safer.”

“I appreciate your concern Leo, but this is not your choice to make.” He has only been king for a matter of weeks, but he has already perfected his royal decree voice, reasonable and utterly firm. “If Odin or Niles died, would you be able to replace them?”

“That is irrelevant, as they aren’t dead and I am not the king of Nohr. ” Leo sounds as indifferent as ever, but he looks unsettled. “Unless they are relevant to our kingdom, I do not deal in hypotheticals.”

Leo has never been able to admit that he is wrong, so Xander does not make him.

“If a person loses their right hand, the stump may heal but the hand never grows back.” Xander says. “Thank you for looking out for me, but I know what I am doing.”

Leo nods, and turns to go. Before he reaches the door, he hesitates, turns back to face Xander.

“Xander.” Leo starts, choosing his words carefully. “I hope you know that I am here for you, not as a prince supporting a king, but as a brother supporting a brother.”

Xander crosses the distance between them and embraces him. Leo tenses for a moment before returning the embrace and Xander realizes that it has been years since they last hugged.

Six months after the war, Xander receives an invitation delivered personally by Kaze to Ryoma’s wedding to Orochi. Xander knows marriages are supposed to be happy occasions, but he can’t help feeling like he should offer his condolences.

The wedding is big news in Hoshido, Kaze tells them, smile slightly pinched, and Ryoma hopes they they can all attend.

“That’s strange.” Camilla says as soon as Kaze leaves the room. “I’m almost certain that Orochi and Kagero are lovers. Or at least they were when we were fighting together.”

“It’s a political marriage.” Leo says. “Obviously.”

“Orochi is only the former retainer of his stepmother. What political benefit does marrying her have?” Camilla wonders.

“Ryoma is young and somewhat impulsive.” Xander reasons. “Orochi was Queen Mikoto’s retainer, and she was a much loved ruler. Perhaps the people of Hoshido feel that Orochi’s experience at court can help Ryoma mature and rule with wisdom.”

“Or maybe it’s just a cover-up for some illicit relationship that would ruin Ryoma if it got out.” Leo adds.

“Don’t be so cynical!” Elise scolds. “Maybe they’re in love. Marriage is a beautiful thing and we should celebrate that our friend is getting married.”

“Speaking of which, dear brother,” Camilla turns to Xander. “Have you considered when you are going to marry?”

“Never.” Xander says, voice surer than he feels.

Leo looks concerned. “Good luck with that, brother.” He says, halfway between skepticism and sincerity.

Political marriages are nothing unusual in Hoshido or Nohr, but Xander holds out the tiniest bit of hope that Ryoma is marrying for love. He and Orochi make a strange pair, but he desperately wants Ryoma to defy the everpresent specter of marriage as a political tool that’s been hanging over him since childhood.

The marriage is surprisingly soon, which only adds to Xander’s curiosity about the reason for their marriage. They have just enough time to arrange for adequate security both in Nohr and with the Nohrian siblings. Technically, they shouldn’t all leave Nohr at the same time, but none of them are willing to miss the wedding. (“Are you excited to see Takumi?” Elise asks Leo. “I anticipate that we will bicker constantly.” Leo smiles, wickedly. “I am looking forward to it immensely.”)

Traditionally, they should leave at least one of their retainers in Nohr in their stead, but none of the retainers really inspire confidence in the Nohrian people, so instead they Leave Gunter and an army of political advisors in charge and hope for the best.

It is strange to be back in Hoshido for the first time since Ryoma’s coronation. The country appears to be thriving, and Xander feels yet another pang of guilt about the devastation his father’s actions and his own compliance had wreaked upon Hoshido and its people.

Although he and Ryoma are very different people, they bonded during the war over their similar feelings of duty and pride as crown princes of their respective country, and Ryoma invites Xander to dine with him privately the night that they arrive.

They eat a simple meal in Ryoma’s quarters, which are spacious and painfully messy. They talk about life at their respective courts, commiserate about the boring political events they are forced to endure, and compare assassination attempts. Xander does not broach the topic of Ryoma’s impending marriage, waiting for Ryoma to bring it up, but Ryoma ever does.

Instead, Ryoma hits on the one topic that Xander does not want to discuss.

“Have you chosen another retainer yet?”

“No.” Xander says, hoping that will shut down the conversation.

It doesn’t.

“How are you coping with your loss? I cannot imagine running Hoshido without both Saizo and Kagero, without either of them I would be dead twice over.”

“So, are you looking forward to married life?” Xander changes the subject abruptly.

Ryoma looks uncomfortable. “Of course. Orochi is a fine woman and she will be a fine queen.”

Luckily, the awkward atmosphere is interrupted by Saizo entering.

“Milord,” He says, not sparing a single glance at Xander. “I apologize for interrupting, but the new archduke of Izumo has just arrived and is asking for you.”

“Thank you Saizo.” Ryoma glances at Xander apologetically. “I am sorry that our dinner must be cut short, and I hope that we can continue this conversation later. Saizo, could you bring me my gloves?”

“I already did, milord.”

Saizo procures the gloves, but instead of handing them to Ryoma, he puts them on Ryoma’s hands himself, handling them with a tenderness Xander did not think Saizo was capable of. Just before Saizo draws his hands away, Ryoma clasps them in his own, briefly, and Xander feels suddenly like he is intruding upon an intimate moment.

“Your marriage is a sham.” He finds himself saying.

Ryoma and Saizo tense as one, suddenly very aware that Xander is still in the room. Xander thinks that it must be his imagination, but he thinks he sees sparks crackling along Saizo’s skin.

Ryoma raises a hand, and Saizo steps back, crackling in the air subsiding.

“I thought that you, of all people, would understand.” Ryoma says, words hard.

“I thought that I would as well.” Xander replies. “Perhaps if Laslow were still alive, I would have.”

They stare at each other for several moments, no one moving.

Finally Xander breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, my friend. That was uncalled for. There is no shame in what you are doing, and it is not my place to judge. I let me personal injuries cloud my judgement.”

Ryoma relaxes, although Saizo remains taut as a bowstring. “Saizo, tell the archduke that I will be with him shortly.”

“Milord.” Saizo bows and disappears, but not before sharing an intense look with Ryoma.

“You’re right. My marriage is a sham, but what can I do?” Ryoma says. “Hoshido is in a more tenuous position than it has been for years, and many people still doubt my ability to rule. If I were to publicly take my retainer as a lover, it would throw the country into chaos. Hoshido is still a conservative country in many way.”

“I understand.” Xander begins, but Ryoma holds up a hand, silencing him.

“I feel the need to explain myself. Please.” He says. “Orochi is a close friend good choice for the queen due to her ties to Mikoto and her experience in court. She is also Kagero’s lover. I do not know how the castle is laid out in Nohr, but my retainers have chambers adjoining to mine. In public Orochi and I will be King and Queen, but in private we can return to our true partners.”

“Your statement cut me because it rang true. This marriage is a political arrangement, and I feel guilty for it because Saizo, Orochi, and Kagero are all making sacrifices for me.”

“And what of you?” Xander asks. “What of the sacrifice that you are making?”

“I never had a choice about whether to make that sacrifice.” Ryoma answers. “But the three of them did, and they chose to do so for me. I must honor their sacrifice by ruling Hoshido well, without resentment for my situation.”

“My friend,” Xander says. “I think you may have eclipsed me in wisdom.”

Ryoma laughs. “I wouldn’t go that far. Now, I must go speak with the archduke, but I hope to speak with you again later. Maybe we can steal some time to spar. I miss sparring against partners of your caliber.”

Xander smiles. “I look forward to it.”

Although Xander is now a king, he still finds his outlet on the battlefield. Logically speaking, the king of Nohr should not ride on the front lines with his men; to be sure, Garon never did. But Xander rationalizes that a good kind leads his men by example, on the battlefield and in the capitol. Besides, as long as at least one of the Nohrian siblings remain safely at court, there shouldn’t be a problem. He has three siblings for a reason, and if he did not get to swing his sword in a real battle from time to time, he might explode.

Battles are the only time that Xander can pretend that he is simply Xander and not the king of Nohr, and he treasures them accordingly. To be fair, he is conflicted about the fact that he feels the most at ease when his actions are taking the lives of others, but at this point, he has so much baggage that he could unpack but chooses not to that adding a little bit more is no big deal.

This time it is a group of mercenaries who have been trying to incite a peasant rebellion in the south of Nohr. Xander dislikes peasant rebellions the most, because more often than not the rebels have a reason for their discontent, and he feels guilty for striking them down. He has tried diplomacy several times, but every time it has failed. Perhaps it is Garon’s legacy haunting him, as Garon had given the common people no cause to trust the word of a king, or perhaps it is Xander’s own failings. Regardless, the fact remains that words had failed and they had chosen to resort to raising their weapons against their own people.

Even in a battle like this, where Xander knows their cause is unjust, he cannot help but feel as if he can think more clearly than he can at any other time. The mercenary group is strong, and fighting them is a worthy challenge. If Xander frees his mind from the circumstances of their battle, it is simply exhilarating. It is an art form, leaving your cares behind, and Xander has worked to perfect it. As he rides, he narrows his focus, until only his sword, his horse, and his target remain in his view. And it works; he is a terror on the battlefield, not because he is the king of Nohr, but because he is a skilled swordsman in his own right, and much more fearless than he has any right to be. He cuts a swathe through their ranks, Peri carving out a parallel line, gleeful in her bloodlust.

Suddenly, Xander sees a ghost.

Most of the mercenaries have fallen or fled, but one of the ones who remain fights in a familiar style, light glinting off a sword he thought he’d never see again.

Xander’s brain continues to operate on autopilot, but rather than bear down on this man with his sword, he finds himself lowering Seigfried as he races towards the man, dismounting to get a closer look.

The man’s eyes widen as Xander rushes towards him and he barely has time to lower his sword before Xander is upon him, crushing him in a hard embrace. The point of Laslow’s sword nicks his thigh, and Xander welcomes the pain because it means that he is not dreaming.

“Laslow!” Xander exclaims, voice hoarse. “I thought you were dead.”

Still shocked, Laslow tentatively puts his arms around Xander in return. “For a while, I thought I was too.”

Xander pulls back, hands on Laslow’s arms, inspecting his face to ensure that it is real. “Laslow, Inigo, how did you survive? What are you doing now? Why didn’t you come back to me? I mean, back to the capital”

Laslow answers with a question of his own. “What did you just call me?”

Xander is confused for a moment. He has become so used to Laslow being dead, of calling him Laslow and Inigo and speaking freely about him because he is not there to object that he did not realize that he had used two names. “What?”

“Milord. You called me Inigo.” Laslow grips Xander’s biceps hard, scared without knowing exactly why.

“Oh. So I did. I apologize Laslow, I was just so shocked to see you...alive.” Xander pauses for a moment, caught up in staring at Laslow’s face, feeling his skin under his hands, warm and very much alive. “We can talk about everything back in the capital.”

Laslow would like nothing more than to return with Xander, to never leave Xander’s side, but he finds himself saying. “Milord, I am under contract.”

“With this mercenary group?” When Laslow nods, Xander chuckles darkly. “Laslow, I believe that Peri is releasing you from your contract right now.”

Laslow looks around, suddenly aware of the bloodshed happening around their reunion. Almost all of mercenaries are dead or gone, the few remaining about to be dispatched by the Nohrian forces. Laslow should feel grief at the deaths of his recent travelling companions, but all he can do is sag into Xander’s arms.

Xander holds him upright, arms tightening around him in concern. “Laslow, are you alright?”

Laslow nods weakly, into Xander’s chest. “I am now, milord.”

Xander’s brain is a mess and his heart is threatening to jump out of his chest, but he manages to get himself and Laslow onto his horse and return to the rest of the Nohrian forces. Laslow appears to be almost in shock, and Xander feels almost the same, still not entirely convinced that this is not an apparition.

“You’re not dead.” He finds himself repeating. “You’re not dead, Laslow.”

“No,” Laslow says. “At least, not last time I checked.”

When they reach the main forces, they are quickly surrounded by Nohrian soldiers who are confused about why their king dismounted and embraced an enemy soldier. Many of them recognize Laslow, and murmurs of shock and confusion run through the ranks.

“Enough.” Xander says, raising his voice and using his most regal tone. “Now is not the time for gossip. Now is the time to set up camp, and tomorrow we will return to the palace.”

His men quickly set about erecting tents and unpacking supplies, but the air of curiosity remains. Xander keeps Laslow by his side as he oversees their work, hand resting lightly on his back as if to reassure himself that Laslow will not disappear.

When Xander’s tent is set up, he pulls Laslow inside and sets about lighting a fire, struggling to light the kindling as he struggles to figure out what to say. He’s spent over a year now talking to and about Laslow in his head, and yet now with Laslow here, he feels as if he is talking to a stranger.

The kindling catches and Xander seats himself on the ground next to Laslow. He tries to start a sentence three times, before finally managing a, “How?”

“Well,” Laslow begins, and the voice is so familiar that Xander almost cries. “It turns out that the bottomless canyon is not the only canyon that does not kill the people who fall into it. I still don’t know exactly what happened when I fell, only that I came to in a strange and distant part of Valla, badly injured and completely lost.”

“I probably would have died of blood loss if a travelling merchant had not happened to find me. He took me back to his village and I spent months there recovering. It seems that the arrow that hit me had some sort of poison on it. I did not die, but I was wracked with fever for weeks and very weak for weeks after that. I spent days on a cot, hallucinating and, it appeared to the Vallites, speaking in tongues.” Laslow pauses. “You called me Inigo, so I’m assuming that you know that I’m originally from somewhere much further than I claimed, and we speak a different language there.”

Xander nods. “Odin told me.”

“I guessed as much. I suppose I’m glad, because that means I don’t have to figure out how to tell you I’m from another world.” Laslow continues his story. “I spent several more months in Valla, working as a mercenary to repay my debt to the family who took care of me when I was sick and to save money to journey back to Nohr. Unfortunately, most Vallites don’t know how to leave Valla, and it took quite some effort to figure out how to return. I eventually found my way back aboveground, but at a place very far away from the Nohrian capital, so I joined up with this mercenary group to earn money and travel in the right direction. I was trying to make my way back to you, milord, but I did not expect that our meeting would be on the battlefield.”

“Neither did I, Laslow.” Xander says, unconsciously moving closer to Laslow. “But I also did not expect to meet you at all.”

“I hope that it was a good surprise?” Laslow’s voice is teasing, but also just the slightest bit uncertain, as if he is unsure how to behave around Xander.

“Of course it is, it’s just...” Xander pauses, trying to think of how to say what he is thinking. “You don’t know how long I have grieved for you, Laslow. I do not blame you for it, but I wish that I had been spared that grief.”

“I’m sorry.” Laslow says. “I wish you had been as well.”

“There is nothing that you need to apologize for.” Xander says. “As long as you do not die on me again now that I have you back.”

“I don’t plan on it.” Laslow says. “So tell me, milord. What has happened in my absence?”

“Well, obviously, I am the king of Nohr. The kingdom is at peace, relatively speaking. Odin and I are friends now, and he’s told me several embarrassing stories about your childhood. Selena has disappeared and Camilla has not chosen another retainer.” Xander looks at Laslow. “I have not chosen a new retainer either.”

“Milord, are...” Laslow hesitates. “Are you married?”

“No.” Xander says. “I remain entirely unmarried.”

“Good.” Laslow says.

Xander raises an eyebrow and Laslow trips over his words. “I mean, it would be strange if you were married because that would be a big difference! I am glad to see the world has only changed but so much in my absence.”

Xander thinks, but does not say, that his world had changed, but it has changed around Laslow’s absence, the future reshaping itself around the hole in his life that Laslow had occupied.

They have an extra tent, several extra tents, but Xander does not mention them and Laslow does not ask. Laslow sleeps in Xander’s bedroll and Xander lies in the extra bedroll, not sleeping because he feels too full, and is halfway convinced that if he falls asleep Laslow will not be there when he wakes up.

Laslow is there when he wakes up. He is there to say good morning and there when they eat a quick breakfast together, there to help Xander pack up his tent. Evidence would suggest that he is not, in fact, going to disappear again, but Xander is not taking any chances.

“I don’t think you’ve let Laslow out of your sight since he came back.” Peri tells them, still ecstatic about his reappearance.

“Had I?” Xander says, ignoring Laslow’s curious look. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He had noticed, and he does not plan to let Laslow out of his sight. Luckily, Laslow seems to have the same idea, and he trails Xander like a shadow, does not protest when Xander suggests they share a horse on the ride back to the castle.

As they ride, Xander is torn between wanting to say everything and not knowing what to say, and he falls somewhere in the middle, asking questions seemingly out of nowhere.

“Laslow.” He says, trying to sound casual despite the thick tension that has been in the air since he first saw Laslow. “Why did you come back?”

“At first,” Laslow sighs, and Xander feels it where Laslow’s back is pressed against his chest. “I was not sure that I would. I always knew I had to choose between who would mourn my loss: my family in Ylisse or my comrades in Nohr. My apparent death seemed to make that decision for me, as you were already under the assumption that I was dead.”

“When I finally left Valla, I traveled first to the place where Odin, Selena, and I planned to meet to return to our world. As luck would have it, I ran into Selena.”

“How was she?” Xander asks. “Did she realize that she broke my sister’s heart?”

Laslow nods. “She knows, and it broke her own heart as well.”

“Then why did she leave?” Xander has never understood Selena, and he does not expect that he will start now, but he owes it to Camilla to ask.

“Selena is...complicated. She felt that it was her duty to return home, and sacrificing her own feelings to do so would prove her worth. I think she also believed that if she stayed, Camilla would have eventually gotten tired of her, but if she leaved, Camilla would never forget her.” Laslow shakes his head. “Selena has always had strange ideas about the workings of the human heart.”

“Odin told me that he and Selena fought before she left, because he refused to go with her.”

“Yes. She was angry because he made the choice that she wished she could make, and in doing so, left her to bear the burden of returning with bad news alone. But by the time I found her, her anger had burned itself out.”

“And you,” Xander pauses, presses on. “you planned to go with her?”

“Yes.” Laslow says. “If I was already presumed dead in Nohr, I thought it would be simpler, and that I would not have to make the choice that weighed so heavily on Selena and Odin. But then Selena told me how deeply my death had affected you. She said that you had not chosen a new retainer, and although you were a good king, it seemed as if some part of you had been taken away.”

Laslow sounds tentative, afraid that Xander is going to deny it.

Xander does not. “She spoke truly.”

“Well,” Laslow pauses to gather his thoughts. “faced with the final chance to make my own decision, I found myself unable to go, unable to...leave you.”

Xander says nothing, tightens his arms around Laslow’s waist.

“Selena agreed to tell Odin’s and my parents that we were alive and well, working in the service of noble masters. And I turned away from one home and headed towards another.”

“Thank you.” Xander says, not specifying what he is thanking Laslow for because there are too many things.

The tension leaves Laslow’s shoulders and they ride in silence the rest of the way.

When they return, his siblings are waiting to welcome him home with their retainers. They have barely ridden into view when they hear a great booming shout and see a figure racing towards him.

“Odin!” Laslow shouts in return, and Xander urges the horse forward to meet them.

As soon as Laslow dismounts, Odin flies at him, knocking him to the ground in a fierce embrace.

“In- Laslow of the indigo skies!” Odin exclaims, “I have always thought I was the chosen one, but it is you who have returned from the cold embrace of death! You are truly the chosen one!”

In a quieter voice, he adds, “I missed you, buddy.”

“I missed you too, Odin.” Laslow says, smiling so wide it looks like his face might break.

Murmurs of astonishment and excitement come from the onlookers, and Xander looks up just in time to see Camilla’s eyes flash as she turns away and walks into the castle, Beruka on her heels.

It stings, but Xander does not blame her. He has regained a retainer he thought he had lost, and she had lost a retainer she thought she would always have. As with all wounds, it will heal with time.

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of excitement and joyous reunions. Elise cajoles the chefs into cooking an impromptu feast in Laslow’s honor, and Xander only just manages to talk her out of holding an impromptu ball.

The majority of the castle gets incredibly drunk at dinner, and just as Odin begins another one of his stories of valor and achievement, Laslow tugs on Xander’s sleeve and asks if they can slip away. Xander, relieved, agrees.

The combination of the readily flowing alcohol and Odin’s antics mean that almost no one notices them leave, save Leo, who nods his approval.

They return to Xander’s chambers and Xander is suddenly very aware that he has no plan and is no idea what is going on. He is saved from having to figure it out when he notices Laslow staring at the corner of his room that has been devoted to Laslow’s belongings since his “death.”

“You kept my things.” Laslow says, looking surprised.

“I did.” Xander says, embarrassed. “Although I thought you were dead, but I could not bear to dispose of your belongings, so I kept them in my chambers. I apologize for the invasion of your privacy.”

“There is nothing to apologize for, Milord.” Laslow says, smiling. “As long as I can have them back now that I am alive again.”

“Of course.”

Laslow walks over to inspect his things, sifting through the clothing and trinkets.

“Milord,” Laslow says, concerned. “Did there happen to be a book with my belongings?”

“Ah.” Xander replies, reluctant to give him the answer. “Yes. I may have given that to Odin. I could not read it anyway and he was very insistent.”

Laslow peers at him, assessing whether he is telling the truth. “Very well, I will have to take it up with him in that case. Did he happen to translate any of it for you?”

“Almost none.” Xander reassures him. “Only a small part about how ugly the shirt I gave you for your birthday was.”

Laslow flushes. “Ah, well. I may have been exaggerating slightly. It’s a very nice shirt.”

“Nohrians are not known for their fashion sense, Laslow.” Xander says, amused. “I am not offended.”

Laslow continues to take stock of his belongings, comes upon the half-empty bottle of cologne. “Milord, do you know why my cologne appears to have been used?”

“I have no idea.” Xander lies, utterly unconvincing.

Laslow laughs merrily, pulls out something black and shimmery.

“Oh.” He gasps. “You have my dancer’s outfit.”

“Yes.” Xander says. “To be honest, I did not realize it was yours at first, but Odin told me it was typical for male dancers in your homeland. He said that he has never seen you wear it though, and has never seen you dance.”

“Nobody in this world has ever seen me dance, and very few in my home world.” Laslow says, staring transfixed at the fabric.

“May I see?” The words are out of Xander’s mouth before he can think them through, and he immediately wishes he could take them back.

Laslow jerks his gaze from the clothes to Xander’s face, shocked. “What?”

“I’m sorry Laslow, I know that dancing is very personal to you, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable by asking you to share that with me.” Xander desperately tries to backpedal. “I apologize for the request; it was rash, and you may disregard it.”

“No.” Laslow shakes his head, suddenly determined. “No, I want to show you. Wait here.”

Laslow disappears into Xander’s washroom and Xander is suddenly filled with anticipation, excitement, fear, and a feeling that he cannot name.

After a few minutes, Laslow emerges, hands twitching as if it is an effort not to cover himself and Xander drinks him in. He is a beautiful sight; the softness of the outfit accentuates his slender lines without taking away from his strength. The fact that the outfit is revealing highlights the tones muscles of his arms and chest, and Xander is utterly transfixed.

“There was an earring that went with it.” Laslow says, fidgeting. “But I couldn’t find it.”

Xander is not sure he remembers what an earring is, his entire mind filled with nothing but Laslow. “Even without it, you look...” He pauses, searching for the right word. “ravishing.” He finishes, and Laslow’s blush spreads from his cheeks down to his neck.

“Thank you, milord.” Laslow says. “Ummm, I usually dance without music, if that is alright with you?”

Xander sits on the edge of his bed, unable to take his eyes off Laslow. “Whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“Well, I’d be most comfortable if you closed your eyes, but I suppose that would defeat the purpose.” Laslow laughs nervously. “Ok. Here I go.”

He starts moving slowly, the only sound his footfalls on Xander’s floor and the swishing of the fabric. His style of dancing is unlike any dancers Xander has seen from Nohr, Cyrkensia, Hoshido, or anywhere else on the continent. He barely notices that there is no music, mesmerized by every spin and twirl.

Like his costume, Laslow’s dancing combines his softness and his strength, and as he watches, Xander feels like he is seeing Laslow clearly for the first time, all the things he knows and has learned about Laslow and Inigo falling into place with every flick of Laslow’s wrists. As Laslow dances, he feels a fierce surge of protectiveness and pride and love for the man in front of him, strong enough to take his breath away.

Laslow finishes his dance, standing in his final pose in the middle of Xander’s floor, breathing hard and utterly vulnerable as the confidence he had while dancing flows out of him, replaced by nervous hope.

“What,” Laslow stops, catches his breath. “What did you think?”

As if he is not in full possession of his own body, Xander rises, crosses the distance between them in two large steps, cups Laslow’s cheeks with his hands, feeling the heat of his blush under his palms.

“You,” Xander says, voice rough and low. “are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on.”

Laslow’s breath hitches, any reply he might have given silenced as Xander kisses him with all the force of a tidal wave.

Laslow kisses back, clinging to Xander like he is a lifeline, like he is afraid that this is a dream that he is about to wake up from.

“Why me?” Laslow manages between kisses, as Xander pulls him back onto the bed.

“Because,” Xander starts, pauses to kiss Laslow again, long and deep. “Losing you showed me that you are the one person I cannot bear to lose.”

“You never will.” Laslow promises, rashly and earnestly, and kisses him again.

Xander does not know how long they kiss, because there is too much kissing to do to waste time with thinking. He kisses Laslow’s forehead, his nose, his neck, and when Laslow laughs at how that tickles, he kisses the dimples that appear before moving back to his lips. Xander thinks, recklessly, that he could kiss Laslow for hundreds of years, one year for every day that he thought Laslow was dead, and still not grow tired of it.

Laslow’s hands reach for his shirt buttons and he asks, “May I?”

Xander nods permission and Laslow divests him of his shirt in record time, running his hands over Xander’s chest and abs with an air of almost reverence.

In their questing, Laslow’s hands find Xander’s necklaces. “Is this my earring?” He whispers in Xander’s ear, lips brushing his ear with every word.

“Yes,” Xander says, too giddy to be embarrassed, helping Laslow shrug off his vest. “I wore it to keep your memory close to my heart. Do you want it back?”

“No,” Laslow says, running his finger over the earring and the skin underneath, cool metal contrasting with warm flesh. “I like the thought of you keeping me close.”

“I fully intend to keep you,” Xander pulls Laslow down so he is lying on top of him, steals another kiss, “incredibly close from this point on. And when I do give you a ring, I want it to be special, not me returning your own earring to you.”

Laslow props himself up with his arms, looking down at Xander. “Milord, you take my breath away.”

Laslow’s bangs fall into his eyes and Xander reaches up, gently pushes them back. “Call me Xander, Laslow.”

“Xander,” Laslow breathes softly. “You take my breath away.”

Laslow leans down to kiss him again and Xander flips him onto his back, kisses a line down his chest and loses himself in Laslow’s quiet gasps and soft hands tangled in his hair.

Later, when they are lying together, naked and satiated, Laslow nestled in the crook of Xander’s arm, Laslow asks, in a small voice. “Do you want me to leave now? I can go back to my own chambers.”

Xander looks at Laslow in disbelief, pull him closer. “Laslow, I do not want you to leave ever.”

“Oh? Truly?” Laslow’s hair is a mess, voice hoarse and pupils blown, and he is the most beautiful thing Xander has ever laid eyes on.

“I told you once that it is not your company I require. Only that you continue to draw breath.” Xander says. “I still do not require your company, but I must admit that selfishly, my greatest desire is that you never leave my side again.”

“In that case,” Laslow says, lazily curling his fingers around the earring lying on Xander’s chest. “I assure you that I never will.”

#xanlow exchange 2017 #xanlow #xanlas #fire emblem #fire emblem fates #fe fates #fe fic #my fic #xander #laslow

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