#there's no way this sword is just a guard's knife... it's too fancy for that

[irritablepoe]

The sword Fyodor first claims to be the Sword Kladenets is also known as the "hidden sword". If it is true what he said and this wasn't an act, this would explain how he got it. Apparently, it can be hidden inside a wall, under a rock or in a sacred tree.

[sporadicthingcollection]

Smash or Pass: Part 1/4 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: It's the last stop before the Grand Line and you slink away for a quiet evening. The universe, however, decides to clown on you. Sequel to Kiss, Marry, Kill. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Warnings: Alcohol, death threats, implied threat of sexual assault. Word Count: ~3.1k.

Mama told me what I should know

"Too much candy's gonna rot your soul

If she loves you, let her go'

Cause love only gets you down!"

---

PART 1: In which you are threatened with a knife, a gun, and a good time.

You thought the night would be fine. You thought no one in this bar would bother you. You thought you’d have a little nightcap or three and head back to the ship. You thought you’d have one last night to spend on your own before sharing a small space with five other people for the foreseeable future.

But nothing worked out as you’d hoped.

As soon as you got comfy at a table in the corner, a horde of rough-looking sailors descended and lit up the place. Loud. Rowdy. Obnoxious.

Ugh. At least they’re not Marines. You can lay low. Sink deep in your chair and focus on your drink.

Gazing into the scrying beer glass, you let your mind wander among the swirls. Thoughts ebb and flow.

Like how you need to remember to get more sutures before you cast off. Or how heavy your fingers feel under all the jewelry. How naked your ring fingers look with no adornment. Your family would be nagging you to get married by now. They’d like Sanji.

But they wouldn’t like that stupid, stupid clown.

He’s been on your mind a lot lately. You hate it. But how could he not be? Made you an offer you had to refuse. You tell yourself it wouldn’t have worked out. Where was he last month when you were looking for an escape? You hope you never see him again.

…but if you did see him again, you wouldn’t complain. He’d probably sidle up to you and say something like—

“Well, hello, gorgeous."

Yeah, that's exactly what he would say.

Wait. That was loud. That wasn’t your thoughts. It can’t be. You turn. 

Buggy the Clown grins at you. “Fancy meeting you here, Miss Sawbones."

You dive to the floor as he pulls a knife from his sleeve and throws it at you, sinking up to the handle in the wall. You clamber to your feet, put on your best snarl, and raise your fists.

All eyes are on you and Buggy as you size him up. The clink of chains and scrape of drawn swords sounds all around you. You’re not sure who your allies are, but you’re grateful for the support.

Especially because there’s just as many goons behind Buggy. He looks as surprised as you feel. His stance softens as he glances around. You could get a punch in while his guard is down—

“Hey!”

A gravelly voice splits the very air of the room. Like a child caught in the cookie jar, you freeze. You’re in big trouble.

Buggy freezes too. His shoulders hunch and his eyes go wide. He glances at you, and then to the side. You look in the same direction.

Standing behind the bar is a stout woman in an apron. A cigar dangles from her lips and she wields a wicked glare. Along with a very, very large shotgun.

She points at a big sign hung above the shelves. NO FiTiN IN DaH baR in big red letters on weathered wooden planks.

“‘No fittin’…?'” Buggy mutters.

“If you’re gonna kill each other,” the matron says, “do it outside.”

Due to a sudden lapse in self-preservation, you speak up. “He started it—“

Everyone jumps as she fires into the ceiling. “And I’m ending it. Get along or get out.”

You glance at Buggy. He glances back. You can see the whites of his eyes, even from all the way over here. Slowly, he replaces his knives back into his jacket.

You lower your fists, feeling awful sheepish.

The bar matron nods. “Back to your drinks, all of you,” she says. 

You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed as the crowd disperses. You can read. You’re very literate. How’d you miss that?

“Guess we both need glasses,” Buggy says right next to your ear.

You jump and nearly swing on him again, but you pull the punch. You have no interest in being shot tonight. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Getting a drink, same as you. Last stop before the Grand Line.” His voice dips low and he leans in close. “And last chance I’ll likely get to cut you and your little captain’s throats.”

You scowl. “Over my dead body,” you growl.

“That’s the idea.” The matron clears her throat loudly. He flinches and pulls back, but the glare remains. “Once you leave, babe— snnckt!” He draws his finger across his throat and his head rolls off his shoulders and into his arms. You yelp and he cackles as he puts it back.

Well, now you’re in it. This wouldn’t have happened if you stayed on the ship, you dumb lush. You could have just drank with Zoro. Or shot the shit with Usopp while he shot at shit. Or let Sanji hit on you while you sharpened his knives. Literally anything would have been better than this.

But here you are. Time to get yourself out of it. Somehow.

"Well, I’m not going anywhere," you tell Buggy. You sit back down at your table. "So get comfy, clown."

He places his hat on the table and plops into the seat across from you. He snatches up the mug -- your mug -- and takes a long, long, long pull. He tips his head all the way back, throat bobbing with every swallow.

You try and fail to drag your eyes away. You like sharp throats.

When it's drained, he slams it back down on the table. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and how he doesn't smudge his makeup, you'll never know.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He kicks up his boots onto the table. “So what’re we drinkin’? Rum? Ale? Whiskey? Bet you’re a rum kinda gal.”

This is gonna be a night.

---

One bottle in. You glower at him and he smiles back, eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Second bottle. The sun is fully down. He’s started chattering about nothing and everything. Rage roils inside you.

Third bottle. The room slowly spins. He’s still talking. You might leave just so you can strangle him.

Fourth bottle. You flip him the bird. He just giggles.

Fifth bottle. You mix it up a bit and order some shots. The matron brings the glasses and leaves the bottle. 

“Hey, the good shit.” Buggy pours two glasses and raises one. “Cheers.”

Something bubbles up in your chest. The urge to speak. You’re gonna say something stupid. You just know it. And you’re just lubricated enough that it slides through. 

You raise your glass. “Another day, another bender. No retreat, no surrender.” You toss it back and it scorches your throat on its way down.

Your head is so full of cotton that it takes you a moment to notice the laughter. Strong. Sharp. Bellyful. Contagious. You like that laugh. You’d like to hear more of it.

And then you realize it’s coming from Buggy. He has his head tossed back and his eyes scrunched and he’s letting out the most glorious laughter you’ve ever heard.

Before you can be properly disgusted with yourself, he recovers. “I got one.” He pours another pair of shots and slides one to you. “Here’s to our wives and girlfriends. May they never meet.”

Two more shots tossed back and two more glasses slammed on the table. It’s all going right to your head and the more it does, the more you’re enjoying yourself.

“Everyone knows that one,” you say. You pour. “One drink is good, two at the most. Three I’m under the table, four I’m under the host.”

His eyebrows shoot up, lips pursed into a circle. Then he laughs again. “Workin’ blue tonight! Alright!” Two more shots poured. “It ain’t the length, it ain’t the size, it’s how often I can make it rise.”

You weren’t expecting that and you almost spit the shot out. You hack and sputter as it goes down the wrong pipe, but you recover.

Though now you’re thinking about Buggy’s dick. You should probably stop that. You wonder if it’s small and that’s why he is how he is.

“Y’alright, babe?” He takes a pull right from the bottle and spills some on his chin and shirt. He’s sauced too. Small comfort.

One more comes to mind. You reach across and snatch the bottle. “Now he lays me down to screw.” You pour one shot. “I pray this clown knows what to do.” You pour the other. “If he should cum before I end…” You raise yours. “I swear to God I’ll fuck his friend!”

He stares at you a moment, grinless, just long enough for you to worry. And then it returns with a howling cackle. He slams his glass into yours hard enough to slosh some whiskey out and you both shoot it back.

You stare at each other, giggling like hyenas. Some part of you knows this is ridiculous. You’re getting smashed with a guy who tried to kill you and your friends. Who was just ready to kill you. Who is plotting to slit your throat right when you’re not expecting it.

You just laugh harder. What’s your life come to?

You come back down to see him staring at you, head resting on his hand. "You laugh cute."

“Nuh-uh.” You take a swig from the whiskey bottle. “I laugh like a News Coo.”

“News Coos are adorable!” He snatches the bottle back and takes a pull. “We switchin’ back to rum after this one? Or do we wanna get avden— abvench— adventurous?”

A good question. "Let's go nuts."

"My kinda woman!" He slams the table to catch the matron's attention. "Bring us something strong!"

---

Bottle six is gin. Neither of you like it and you both down the whole thing. Bottle seven, you're back to ale.

On eight, you wonder if the throat-cutting threat was a ruse and he's really just going to give you alcohol poisoning.

At least it's a fun way to go.

"So there I am," Buggy says, "looking at the giant hole in the hull where the cannon once was, holding a cannonball like this--" He jumps to his feet, pops his head off, and clutches it to his chest like it weighs fifty pounds. "--when the first mate himself walks in."

Your jaw drops. "What'd you do?"

"Only thing I could do.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Threw the cannonball at him!"

He lobs his head to you. You squeal in surprise, just barely managing to catch him before you fall out of your chair. The giggles flow from you like water from a spigot.

He grins as you look at him. "Gotcha," he says with a wink.

Maybe it's the booze. Maybe it's the surprise. Your cheeks heat up all the same. You throw the head back and clamber to your feet.

A moment of clarity hits you as you sit back down. "Why are we drinking together? You wanna kill me."

"It's not that weird. Best drinkin' buddies I ever had tried to kill me. When I tried to skip out on the tab, but... y'know." He takes a gulp from his mug. "’Sides, I like you."

"Why?"

“Barber. Cute laugh. Helluva haymaker." Another swig. “You'd do better with me than that group of losers."

"I am not joining your crew."

He watches the ale swirl in his mug, tracing the rim with his fingers. His lips purse and he glances everywhere but your face.

You try to wait for him to speak, but music catches your attention before he can reply. A lively tune, one perfect for dancing. It looks like some of the pirates pulled out instruments and are entertaining their fellows.

"Aw, I love this song," you chirp. “Luffy’s right, we gotta get us a musician already.”

A chain of dancers sails past. You wish you could hop in, but you’ve got two left feet in ill-fitting high heels when you’re sober on a good day.

Buggy watches you watch them. “Go cut a rug. I’ll watch your shit.”

You shake your head a little too hard and the universe spins. “No way. Can’t dance worth a damn.”

“I’ll give you a hand.” His left hand detaches with a little flourish. “Or two.” Off goes the other one. “Or all of me, if you want.”

“Then who’s gonna watch my shit?”

He blinks, then sits back. “Whatever. I gotta piss anyways,” he mutters. He tries to stand, only for his feet to slip out from under him. “Can I get a hand?”

“Alright, but I’m not helping you aim.” You’re less sober than he is, but you’re drunk enough to try. Hauling yourself to your feet, you offer your hand. He takes it, pulling himself upwards.

And then you see the smile on his face. In a burst of coordination, he pulls you into the throng of people.

Oooooh no. No. No no no. He whirls you around, making your head spin. You step on someone’s foot. “I. Cannot. Dance.”

“Can’t?” He lifts you up, moves you to the side, and places you down again. “Or won’t?”

“Both!”

“Bullshit. Hand here.” He plants your hand on his shoulder and places his own on your—

You slap the smile off his face. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. He accepts it.

“Sorry, thought you were shorter,” he mutters. He puts his hand on your waist. Even through his glove, you can feel his warmth. “Stand on my feet.”

“I’m not a child!” You try to pull away, only to collide with a very large man and get knocked back into Buggy. You’re trapped. No way out but to dance.

You know what? Fine. You stand on his feet — making sure to stamp his toes good — and glower at him. “What’s next?”

The smile returns. “Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

You clutch him as tight as you dare. And thank God you do, because soon you’re spinning like a top.

He guides you over and under, side to side, forward and back. And you don’t trip once. Neither of you do. You don’t even feel nauseous. How is he doing this? Is he magic? Is he just that good?

You glance down. Detached from his ankles, his feet support yours as they scoot around. The rest of him glides through the air, guiding you among the other dancers.

It might as well be magic.

"Light off your feet!" you say.

Buggy's chest thrums with a chuckle. Your stomach jumps into your throat as he drops you into a dip just long enough for him to wink at you. "Ain't I clever?"

He pulls you back up and your stomach slides into your boots. The dance continues.

Whirling, twirling, ducking, weaving, bouncing, bobbing… Is this what a dolphin feels like, swirled around by ocean currents? Or a kite, floating on the breeze? Or a princess swept off her feet by a dashing scoundrel?

Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you ponder what your life has come to. A pirate, dancing on the feet of a clown who tried to kill you and your friends. Who then stole several kisses from you and made your heart flutter and got really drunk with you and now you're a little in lo--

No. Don't say it. If you don't say it, it won't come true. Unless it's the other way around?

It is the other way around. If you say it, you'll jinx it and it won't happen. So you admit it to yourself: you're smitten with this psychotic jackass.

The laughter bubbles forth and it just won't stop. You don't want it to stop. You never want this to stop. This feeling, this dance, this fit of hysterics.

But it must, as all things do. With one final fiddle run, the music stops and everyone applauds. You would join them, but you’re too busy holding onto Buggy for dear life, catching your breath and trying to stop the room from spinning.

“Can’t dance, huh?”

He’s as breathless as you, mouth parted as he takes breaths deep enough to shake his shoulders. Sweat glistens on his face. Glows, even. A few shimmering strands of hair have slipped from his bandanna and stick to his forehead.

What little breath you’ve recovered vanishes from your lungs. Your heart flutters — no, it flaps, like a gull fighting a gust.

You wanna kiss him, but that last shred of self-restraint stops you. “Let’s go again,” you say instead.

His face lights up. “Lemme-- Lemme get rid of this.“

His forearms slip out of his coat and fly to his shoulders, catching his coat as he shrugs out of it. They zip over toward your table. Pretty slick, you admit to yourself.

And then it gets caught on a chair. The arms yank and yank, but it’s snagged good. You giggle.

“C’mon, you piece of…!” He huffs. He pecks your cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He scrambles over to the snag, tripping on every table and chair along the way.

And then you realize he kissed you. Your spine goes rigid.

A tap on your shoulder knocks you out of your stun and you turn. You half-expect it to be one of his hands, but a rather large pirate is there.

“My captain fancies you,” he rumbles. He nods at a smug-looking blond with the worst come-hither face you’ve ever seen. “He would like the pleasure of your company.”

Nnnnno, you think. “Nnnnno,” you say. Buggy has freed his coat and is draining the rest of the bottle you’d abandoned. “Already spoken for.”

The man’s hand engulfs your shoulder and pulls you around. “It wasn’t a request.”

The blond snakes his arm around your trunk, his hand going to your breast. You try to pull away, but the goon’s grip is like iron.

A sharp whistle makes everyone turn. Buggy stands there, arms behind his back. His expression is neutral, but you see his clenched jaw and the bulging tendon in his neck.

“And where are you going with my leading lady?” He’s got the showman voice on. “Our number isn’t over.”

The captain smiles. “I’ll return her once we’ve had our fun,” he says.

He takes a few meandering steps towards them. “Look, gentlemen: we can play this as a tragedy or a comedy. Your choice.”

The goon straightens up. He cracks his knuckles with a chorus of pops. The captain draws a rapier. You’re not sure how well a Chop Chop man handles being stabbed.

Buggy glances between the two of them, nonplussed. “Comedy it is.”

Two disembodied hands slam a bottle over each man’s head. Shards of glass and drops of rum fly everywhere. The pirates’ grips go slack, and you jump away as they hit the floor with dull thuds.

Chaos erupts.

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[chernobog13]

OUT OF THIS WORLD (vol. 1) #1 (June, 1950). Avon Publications. Cover by Gene Fawcette.

Ho hum. Just another science fiction comic, right?

Normally you'd be right. But this little gem contains the first appearance of the one-and-only Crom the Barbarian!

Yes, decades before a certain Cimmerian first appeared at Marvel Comics, writer Gardner Fox and artist John Giunta brought a very Conan-esque barbarian to the four-color pages.

Curiously, Crom's tribe - emigrating from Northern Eurasia (perhaps Siberia, where blond hair is thought to have originated) - is called the Aesir. That's the collective name of the Norse gods of myth, not Asgardians, as Stan Lee and company would have you believe. Oddly enough, though, Crom makes reference to characters from Norse myth (Thor, Jormundgandir, Freya, Garm, Uller), as well as mythological characters from other countries (Set, Nessus). And another guy even invokes Zeus' name (here spelled "Zues").

Crom was a very neighborly guy. According to the text, "To Crom, all men who were not Aesir were enemies. They must be killed, that his tribe might become rich and prosperous."

I could make a MAGA joke here, but that's too easy and obvious.

Crom also deftly wields a sword with the heartwarming moniker Skull-Cracker. He often talks to the sword, encouraging it to drink its fill of his enemies' blood. A real sweetheart, this Crom is.

Crom is also quite the lusty fellow with an appreciative eye for the ladies. In just ten short pages he finds three different lasses that tickle his fancy.

The last gal turned out to be a queen. Originally, she tried to knife Crom in the back because he was stealing a treasure from her vault.

Crom's response to that was "the barbarian way:" he grabbed her and kissed her until she fell limp in his arms.

Politically correct this ain't.

Speaking of political, it is said that "Crom's gorilla-like strength, the cunning of his sword-hand" (plus his ability to leap like a deer) "swept (away) the soft, politically appointed guards before him."

Back to the queen: despite Crom using her as a hostage to cover his escape, and threatening to kill her if she doesn't cooperate, two panels later she's in love with him and wants him to rule by her side as king.

That Crom, what a guy!

Like the Cimmerian he is likely based on, Crom is not role-model material. Mildly entertaining, yes, but I can see parents - especially mothers - back in the 1950s getting upset that little Johnny is reading this sort of stuff in a comic book.

Still, the story is relatively important because it is, arguably, the first Robert E. Howard-style sword and sorcery tale in comics. And as we all know by now, it would certainly not be the last.

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @thenavysealkie @realmackross TIMING: July 12th at Hollow Point Armory SUMMARY: Two strangers come together to help a crotchety old store owner with the promise of free weapons as payment. WARNINGS: unsanitary tw and just know there's a big ass spider involved.

“After his previous encounter with that zombie from the ocean, Marcus couldn’t help but feel much more vulnerable. He had let his guard down and allowed himself to feel too safe and secure in Wicked’s Rest. A stupid thing to do, he figured, in a town full of supernatural creatures. If the hunters don’t get you, the water ghouls will. If he was going to stick around here permanently, and he planned to, then he was going to need better protection. 

He entered in through the doors of Hollow Point Armory and was amazed at the selection of firearms available. While Marcus always preferred to fight with a knife, a little strength from a distance couldn’t hurt. From his time in the navy, he had enough training to be confident and accurate with a pistol and rifle. Still, he was mostly in need of a new blade. He examined the one his father had given him on his 18th birthday, the handle in the design of a sea serpent, coming up to a brass hilt. The blade itself was rather short at about 4 ½ inches long, and made of iron, in case any disgruntled fae came after him for sapping their magic. However, the handle had lost its grip and the blade had started to lose its edge. It was becoming more of a liability to try and use than it was a source of protection. Besides, he would want a longer blade to put more distance and who/whatever it was that was trying to kill him. 

One knife grabbed his attention, easily double the length of his current one, with a practical black wooden handle. The surface of the handle was gritty, ensuring Marcus that he could maintain a good grip. The blade itself looked razor sharp, and granted him enough distance to command much more room in a combat scenario. His heart sank a bit when he saw the price of the weapon. He figured, if it saved his life, then it would be priceless. But “priceless” sure was a lot of money. 

Call it boredom or call it Llama just needing something to relieve her mind, but somehow she had found her way into Hollow Point Armory. It was the last place she had expected to find herself, but considering she felt completely alone in the world and without protection, it was probably the best place. For years she had the comfort of knowing her bodyguard had been on speed dial if she had ever needed anything, despite the fact that she was pretty well versed in martial arts. But Wicked’s Rest was turning out to be a completely different ball game with challenges that California just didn’t seem to have.

Perusing the aisles slowly, she let her eyes scan the shelves and cases for anything that struck her fancy. She knew the ease guns could bring by aiming, pointing, and shooting, but she had a true and passionate hate for the weapons. So when she had come to the gun section of the store, she easily passed it up. However, to her surprise, two aisles over, Llama had found exactly what she was looking for…katanas, nunchucks, and other various tools she had been familiar with.

Slowly rubbing her cold fingers across the hilt of a really nice katana hanging up, Llama’s mind went back to the time she had first held one. It was intimidating, and she had hesitated, but once she had gotten the hang of swinging the sword, she instantly fell in love. Of course, the realization of where she was standing hit pretty hard. Did she really want to leave the store with a sword in hand? Normally, she would have been all for it, but considering some of the most recent rumors that had been spreading in the media about her, she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Maybe a bo staff would be the better choice?

Marcus’s concentration was broken when he sensed movement on the other side of the store. He had assumed it was just him and the store owner in the building, and curiosity got the better of him. He looked over to find a pale woman staring longingly at the katana selection. She definitely seemed to have good taste, he gave her that. While Marcus always thought katanas were a badass choice of weapon, he figured they were a touch impractical as opposed to a knife, which was more portable and versatile. 

He watched the woman’s gaze shift from the katanas over to the bo staffs. To be honest, Marcus knew nothing about fighting with a staff. He figured if there was no bladed end, it probably wasn’t going to do much damage without a lot of effort. Still, he had to admit the additional range the weapon provided had to have its own uses. 

The woman seemed…well not like the type of person you would see casually perusing through lethal weapons. She didn’t appear like the rough and tumble type of woman that he came to see quite often around town. Instead, she looked as though an influencer had been airdropped into a combat site. And yet, she certainly did seem to have at least some idea of what she was looking for. Knowing that this was a dangerous town, and having weapons experience himself, he chanced approaching the woman, being sure to grab her attention from a distance so he didn’t startle her with a weapon in her hand. 

“Excuse me, did you need any help finding anything in particular?”

Llama’s eyes continued to stray to the katanas and without second thought, she decided to pick one up. Easing it off the rack, she pulled it into her hands. The weight was familiar. It had been a little while, but it felt good. She so desperately wanted to swing it, but knew better than to in a public place with the risk of someone approaching her. And about the time the thought entered her head, she heard a voice.

Looking up and letting her eyes meet his, she spoke, “Uh, no. I think I found my section. Not really a gun person. But it’s really the question of do I want to buy this, a bo staff, or nunchucks.” She hadn’t quite been a fan of throwing stars. If someone knew how to use them and could use them efficiently then Llama had respect for them, but they just didn’t give her the relief she so desired. “What would you recommend?” She wasn’t sure if the man she was talking to worked here or was just another wandering customer like herself, but she did value hearing his opinion, especially knowing that he had no idea who she was.

Llama gently held the sword out to him, “I mean I like the weight of this, but I’m really looking for something for a meditative purpose, I think. But, like, also something that’s going to keep me safe.” She was starting to get somewhat nervous, afraid that he was going to judge her for being in a weapons store, even though she had every right to be. She may not have looked the type, but Llama could drop a man to his knees in a heartbeat, if she felt threatened.

Katana, bo staff, and nunchucks? All she was missing was a pair of sai and she could do a one woman recreation of the ninja turtles. Marcus had to admire her proficiency in different weapons, even if they were a bit obsolete by today’s standards. Given her Hollywood looks, something about her holding the katana reminded him of that scene in Kill Bill. The one where Uma Thurman rampaged through 88 people without taking a scratch. Yup, definitely badass, he decided. 

She was asking him for a recommendation and asked for something “meditative?” What exactly did that mean? He conjured in his mind the image of monks meditating. They used staffs, right? That’s at least what the movies would have him believe. 

“If you’re looking for something more meditative and less stabby, the bo staff seems like a good option. But if you want strong protection, I’d have to recommend something with a little more stopping power.” He walked over to a pair of nunchucks, a little surprised that the store even carried them, and picked them up, feeling their weight. “These are quick, less awkward to maneuver, and if you smack somebody at just the right spot in their temple, they’ll go down fast. Only problem is you can hit yourself too, so I’d recommend getting some good training in with these if you’re gonna use them”. 

In actuality, Marcus hadn’t been trained in any of these weapons. But he did watch a lot of action movies, especially the old karate theater films from the 70s and 80s, so he figured that mixed with his actual combat experience pretty much made him an expert. 

She hung on his every word. He seemed to know what he was doing and talking about, and she could appreciate that. She had seen all the ways you could get lost in twirling a bo staff, and the idea had relaxed her, but the point he made about the nunchucks was legit too. Llama didn’t know how much trouble she could possibly get into, but if it was anything like the crystalized creatures she had seen lurking around town, she certainly didn’t want to be without protection. Plus, with the nunchucks it would be a little more discrete. They could be tucked into the back of her pants, in one of her huge hoodies, or her Chanel tote (but that one was only for special occasions).

Llama followed him, but made sure to keep her distance in case he started swinging. There was nothing like getting hit with a pair of nunchucks. She remembered having three stitches to the forehead, and after that, she made it a priority to never hit herself again. Listening carefully as he explained things, the young actress kept a content look on her face and nodded in agreement, “You do have a point. I mean no copious amounts of blood. Easier to carry around then a bo staff or Katana. Do you mind if I see a pair?”

Stepping forward, she picked up a pair from the shelf. She didn’t want to offend him and the advice he was giving her, so Llama made it a point to look them over carefully, “Nice bit of weight to them. Good grip. Seems like they’re pretty easy to handle.” Moving back away from the man she had just met, and making sure nothing was around her, Llama let one of the nunchucks drop, so they were ready to use, “So you just kinda…swing ‘em around?” Okay, at this point she was totally messing with him. She had been training in martial arts since she was thirteen. Though it had been a hot minute since she had picked up a pair of nunchucks. This was either going to go really well or really poorly, but either way, at least it would be entertaining.

Starting off slow, she let the windmill motion start to build momentum. She had enjoyed her brain smoothie not too long before coming into the store, so her mind was sharper than normal. As the nunchucks started to swing faster, Llama began flipping them and rotating them in different directions, even catching the free side behind her back in her opposite hand. It was all coming back to her naturally, and it was a rush she had missed. When she finally finished, she let the free end swing up under her arm, “Yeah, that felt good. I think I’ll take the nunchucks…”

Marcus observed the woman pick up a pair of nunchucks and get a feel for them. He got nervous when she asked if she’s just supposed to swing them around and became even more anxious when she started doing just that. His eyes darted over to the nearby shelves, hoping she wouldn’t break anything. He would try and grab her arms to stop her, but the risk of getting hit was much too high. 

His anxiety gave way to astonishment as he watched the woman artfully handle the nunchucks, even throwing in cool flairs and tricks. She handled the weapon like an absolute seasoned pro and he could do nothing but stare slack jawed at the performance. When she finally finished her routine, she very casually said that they seemed like a good fit. He couldn’t tell if this was an extreme case of “being a natural” or if he was being played, but either way this woman continued to impress him. Still, he didn’t particularly appreciate being shown up by a woman whose skills he had discounted again. Was everybody in this town a secret super soldier?

Marcus cleared his throat. “Right, definitely seems like you can handle them pretty well. I hope whatever you need protection from will-”, he was suddenly cut off by a voice towards the back of the store yelling out. “DAMMIT! NOT ANOTHER ONE!”, the voice shouted. The store owner stumbled out from the back, seeming surprised to find customers in the store. 

“Sorry folks, didn’t realize anybody was in here. You’ll have to excuse the noise there’s a…a bit of a situation in the back. Don’t worry, I have a hunter who's been coming in to deal with these pests.” Then under his breath, Marcus could hear the man say “he’s just so expensive”. Finally the man perked up again and said “Anyway, if you want to bring those purchases up here, I can-” before being cut off by a loud crashing sound in the back again. The man sighed and said “If this keeps up much longer it’s gonna trash my store!”

Llama was fighting back the urge to laugh, but there was an apparent grin on her face. She had almost forgotten how much enjoyment she had from flipping nunchucks around. She would definitely be purchasing those, and thanking the man, whether he was an employee or not, for helping her. But before she could explain herself and the experience she had, the loud crash and booming voice coming from the back.

Narrowing her eyes, Llama glanced over to the man next to her, before seeing the store owner walk out. She listened to him apologize, but also the use of the word hunter had seemed strange. Was that the name of a Pest Control service offered in Wicked’s Rest? Normally they were just called exterminators, where she was from. And she had known of a great one, but that was back in California.

Again, Llama was going to speak as she began walking forward, until she heard another crash. Turning her attention back to the weapon’s expert, she finally spoke, “Should we do something or call somebody? I know an exterminator back home, but he lives in California. Maybe animal control or…I’ve just never heard of somebody calling for a hunter to take care of a pest problem” She wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but she could hear the desperation in his voice. “I mean, how hard is it to catch a loose squirrel or something?” She shrugged, the nunchucks still in her hands.

Marcus watched the girl in front of him, looking more and more lethal with those nunchucks in her hand. She did have a point, how hard could it be to take care of a small pest problem? If he was really desperate and short on cash, he’d be more than willing to try and help him out. If the woman in the store with him wanted to help out, then that would be even better. Who knows what kind of damage she could do with those nunchucks? While he didn’t fancy the idea of killing anything, preferring to relocate, he also understood the damage that some critters could cause. 

He glanced sideways at the woman next to him, who also looked eager to help in any way she could. 

“Maybe I could help with your little pest problem? After all, I’d hate for you to have to pay the rates a hunter charges just to deal with something small,” Marcus offered to the store owner.

“Oh it’s nothing small,” the man said, shaking his head from side to side. “It’s…well probably better if I showed you first. If you still want to try and kill the damned thing, be my guest. I’ll give you that knife free of charge if you can take it out. I’ll just have you sign a waiver beforehand stating that I take no responsibility for any injury, dismemberment, or death that may occur as a result of you taking on this job. Just legal formalities, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” 

That certainly didn’t put Marcus at ease, but he was also never one to turn down a challenge. He nodded his head at the man, conveying his willingness to accept even though his nerves now made it difficult to speak. What on earth could be holed up in this shop that’s so dangerous?

“And how about you, girly?” The man said, now turning to face the woman with the nunchucks.  “Wanna join in? I’ll, of course, have to get you to sign the same waiver. Same deal, you get to walk out of here with those nunchucks, free of charge. Whaddya say?”

Llama listened to the conversation going on between both men. It was still odd to hear them both refer to exterminators as hunters, but maybe it was an east coast thing. She wasn’t here to judge. And the term hunter became the least of her worries when the owner hinted at the creature not being small. What in the world was he dealing with? Big Foot? And on top of that a waiver would have to be signed? If her agent and lawyer had been present they would have told her no. Turned down the offer in a heartbeat for her and pulled her out of the store. But they weren’t here, and she wasn’t exactly acting at the moment. But did she still want to possibly get dismembered over a set of nunchucks she could easily just purchase? No. But maybe over the idea that her life didn’t have to be so closed off here in Wicked’s Rest. She could still do stuff. She just had to be careful.

“What the hell? Count me in. Where’s this waiver I’ve gotta sign?” She eagerly moved towards the older man ready for an adventure. I mean she had discovered with Mateo and the fireworks that body parts did grow back. Slowly if it was bad enough, but with the right amount of food, she would be good. Llama just wanted something, anything that would keep her from being curled up alone in a huge house away from everyone.

Looking back over to the man behind her, Llama let a sly grin slip over her face. This was either going to go really well or really poorly, but at least neither one of them would be alone, “Let’s do this.” Spinning the nunchucks again, before pulling them back up under her arm, the actress was ready to take on something new and exciting. It was as if she had been offered a part in a new horror/action movie, and she was going to take the role as seriously as she possibly could.

Marcus was pleased to hear he wouldn’t be going into this alone, especially if it was with somebody who at least seemed to know what they were doing. Still, the waiver definitely concerned him. It was bad enough he was in danger, but now somebody else was too? He remembered Nora and the rush of excitement they got upon slaying the monster on the beach. How bad could this creature be in comparison to that? 

He glanced over at the woman, and nodded his head. Before following the shopkeep back, he shook the woman’s hand and introduced himself. “Marcus, by the way. Figure if we’re gonna go into the belly of the beast together we may as well know each other’s names' '. 

“You two gonna keep lollygaggin’, or are you gonna follow me? I ain’t got all day”. 

Marcus took a little offense to the man he figured he was doing a huge favor for suddenly rushing them. Still, his feet carried him forward through a narrow corridor. At last they got to a back room which he presumed was used for storage. It was a tall wooden double door with two brass ring handles. It looked like something out of the 16th century that would lead to a monarch’s bedchambers, yet the wood and metal were both in stunningly good condition. He could hear a skittering sound inside, followed by the sound of more boxes crashing to the floor. 

“The beast is just through here. Good luck! If yer not back in 20 minutes, I’ll assume it went ahead and ate ya. Now get in there and give it hell!”

Llama stuck her hand out and gave him a firm handshake in return, “It’s nice to meet you, Marcus. I’m Llama. Long story for another day. Right now we’ve got a beast to slay.” It was as if she had gone into character mode. She was focused, and she didn’t want to break that focus by explaining how she came to have the name Llama in the first place, which was still hard to wrap her mind around.

Hearing the request of the man caused the actress to narrow her eyes. This guy had definitely sounded like one of the many pushy directors she had worked with in the past. It usually made for an awkward day on set, but she had learned to push past stuff like this. Besides, it wasn’t like this guy was going to be calling the shots much longer. He was just going to send them into the dark to face something that could probably eat their face and call it a day. Despite her instincts telling her to turn around though, Llama let her curiosity and need for something exciting and dangerous to pull her forward.

As they approached the back, Llama found herself confused by the sudden change in scenery. Leaning in towards Marcus, she couldn’t help but make a comment, “Did we just step back in time or something?” But before she could say anything else, she found herself facing their fate with an encouraging warning to give the beast hell!

Llama looked back over at Marcus as they stood in front of the door, “You know, I’m rich, and I can just buy this shit and anything else you want in the store, and we can call it a day…” All sense of adventure was quickly leaving her body with the threat less than 10 feet away behind a door that looked like it was meant for something other than slaying dragons.

Llama. Now that was a very… unique name. Marcus was going to question how somebody could have come to be named Llama, but growing up on the west coast he wasn’t all too surprised. The hippie flower children naming their kids after trees, rivers, and animals. It was only a matter of time until they ran out of good ones and had to start settling for “Llama” to still make their kids seem unique. He just hoped she wasn’t bullied too badly during her school years. 

“You come from a lot of money, eh? So do I, actually. Although a lot of that money is sort of tied up at the moment”. While the navy brass was off his trail for now, withdrawing from his accounts would certainly draw suspicion. While he felt comfortable letting his loved ones know he was okay now, he would have to get access to his money some other way once more time passed. 

“Explains the looks. I, uh, mean that in a good way.” 

He had to admit that he also felt very nervous as well, not that he would allow himself to show it. He looked over at Llama and simply offered “How about this? We peek our heads inside just to get a look at it. If it looks too scary, we run. After all, we signed a waiver, not a contract. But if you’re looking for that rush, that sense of adventure, and it looks weak enough, then I say let’s go for it. Plus, we’ll have the peace of mind knowing we’ve done a good deed.” Granted, that good deed was being done for a very rude person in risk of their own safety, but Marcus’s sense of duty was a strong one. In his mind, he couldn’t turn back now. It would go against his very nature to do so. 

Marcus carefully pulled on one of the handles and, slowly, the doors began to creep open. Marcus peered through the small opening and saw only a dark room. He could see in the dark well enough, but only saw knocked over shelves with items strewn across the floor of the room. There were definitive scratch marks on the walls.  And yet, he didn’t see any sort of creature. It was as if the beast they had been warned about had simply…vanished. In typical bad horror movie fashion, Marcus slowly walked inside. As he moved towards the center of the room, taking care to step over the knocked over merchandise, he found his arm caught in some sort of invisible force. As he struggled, he soon found his entire body unable to move. 

“I’ve made a lot of money in my career so far.” It was true. Llama had a net worth of around $25 million, but that was nothing anybody in Wicked’s Rest needed to know. Of course, it’s not like it couldn’t be googled, but still. It was his comment about her looks that left her giving him a narrowed glare, “Uh huh. Well if we’re going off of looks and weapons knowledge, I’m gonna go military for you. And I, uh, mean that in a good way.” She may have looked like the epitome of young Hollywood in a small town, but Llama was pretty smart and observant when it came to people. However, online was a different story, considering her name was now Llama.

Though she was slightly offended, Llama let it go because they had bigger fish to fry, like whatever was lurking behind door number one. And with his proposal on the table of taking on a good deed for the day, she felt like she couldn’t turn back now, “You’re right. We didn’t fully commit to this or sign our lives away.” Her mind was starting to jump back to the term the two men had been using earlier, hunters. She definitely was no hunter, but she did have combat training from multiple credible sources. She could do this.

Llama made her way in slowly behind Marcus after he had opened the door. What little light there was had given way to all kinds of damage and scattered boxes, and she couldn’t help but grip her nunchucks a little tighter. However, as he moved deeper into the room, Llama found herself stopped and staring wide-eyed at what appeared to be a giant spider hanging from the ceiling with its 3845345934 eyes staring back at her, “Uh, Marcus…I think…I think we should…” She had started to slowly back up, readying herself to flee, “I think we should maybe cut our losses and just go somewhere else…”

Marcus couldn’t help but roll his eyes as his newly found partner’s warning came far too late. Sure, he thought to himself, NOW we’ll cut our losses and run. When I physically can’t. He struggled further against the webbing, but it pulled him back no matter how hard he tried. Frustrated, he looked up towards the ceiling, trying to see if there was anything hanging down that he could use to grab on and pull himself away. And that was when he saw it. 

A mountain of eyes, disturbingly large fangs, and eight long spindly legs covered in fine hairs. This wasn’t just any spider. This was Aragog on steroids, and Marcus soon began to realize he had become the creature’s prey. He struggled further, much more panicked now, but it was no use. Slowly, the creature moved its head towards him, all of its many eyes focused directly on him. He reached toward his waist to try and grab his newly acquired knife, but he couldn’t maneuver it out of its holder. 

Now Marcus had a good education, so he knew how spiders devoured their prey. First they sunk their fangs in and injected a paralytic venom into their victim. Then they inject an acid that dissolved their prey from the inside out. Seemed a bit counterintuitive towards actually eating their catch, but it was one way to make sure they were dead, and probably made their meal a lot easier to get down. That was about the extent of what he knew about them.

He didn’t exactly fancy being turned into soup, especially when he’d be alive for the souping part of it. Just great, he survived one brush with danger, only to meet an even worse fate. In an act of defiance, Marcus spat in the creature’s face. Human signals of disrespect and contempt apparently didn’t translate well to the arachnid world, as it simply reared its head back a little bit and wiped the spit off with one of its legs. It held the saliva up to its face and…sniffed it? Do spiders smell? He didn’t think they had noses. Whatever it was doing, it only afforded him a few moments of reprieve, and Marcus braced for the impact of its fangs.

When Llama realized Marcus wasn’t responding or coming, she paused. She could just leave. Run. Cut her losses. Be done with it. But what kind of person would that make her? A horrible one? An even worse one than she already was? But was she really even a person anymore? She ate brains. Her fiance’s brains. Other people’s brains. She was literally standing there having an existential crisis while Marcus was about to be made into spider food. “Dammit! I am not that kind of person! Fuck!”

Closing her eyes and taking in a deep, unneeded breath, Llama gathered her courage, and then the idea hit her. Her phone! The LED flashlights on those things were ridiculous, and she knew shining it at the bug would probably startle it! Hopefully! Pulling out her phone and turning it onto the brightest setting, she held the device up all while tightening her grip on the nunchucks still in her hand, “Marcus. Are you still alive?”

Llama moved closer and shined the light around, until she saw the creature once again, and this time her plan worked…almost. Once it laid eyes on her - about a thousand of them - it awkwardly lost its grip from where it was dangling and plopped down onto… “Marcus?!” Seeing its lumpy and weird shape springing back and forth in the tight, nearly invisible web it had weaved with her new spider combat buddy bouncing around with it, Llama didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or take a running swing at it! The latter it would be.

Letting out a war cry, the living dead actress held up the phone to guide her and started swinging her nunchucks ready to knock it off of her friend, but before she could, Llama came to a screeching halt as it and Marcus springed back in her direction much like a slingshot except the contents staying stuck, sending her to the ground and her phone and nunchucks flying off in another direction, “Oh sweet Nick Jonas don’t let it eat me! I’m too young to die again!”

Marcus watched his would-be savior fall to the ground, her weapons crashing helplessly across the other side of the room. Great, not only was he going to die, but he got somebody else killed too. What was that she said about dying again? People only died once, didn’t they? Unless…no. This woman was far too attractive (conventionally speaking) to be undead. Usually they had some evidence of decomposition, not unlike the creature on the beach. Then again, Marcus didn’t have much experience with undead beyond the occasional vampire hunting him down for his seal blood. 

Marcus still had his hand around the handle of his knife, the tips of his fingers barely able to reach. Carefully, Marcus rolled his fingers up along the handle, slowly bringing it up towards his hand so he could grip it more firmly. Awkwardly, he bent his wrist in a way that was just barely able to reach the webbing holding him in. He first cut the web holding his shoulder so he had more range of motion. This allowed him to make short work of the rest of the webbing while the giant spider was focused on Llama. 

Marcus attempted to sneak up and stab at the spider right at the top of its abdomen while it was still distracted. In spite of looking like a fairly new and well sharpened knife, attempting to stab the beast was like stabbing stone. His blade clanked uselessly against the armored exoskeleton and the opposing force knocked Marcus to the ground. Once again, the eight legged monster turned its many eyes to Marcus, creeping forward as it had before.  This was it, Marcus had his second chance and he blew it. 

Shaking his head, he decided this wouldn’t be the end. In a last ditch effort, he made a leaping strike towards the creature’s many eyes. If he could blind it, it would give him and Llama a chance to regroup and take down the monster. The only downside is the eyes were dangerously close to its monstrous fangs. Meaning, if Marcus wanted to fling his blade towards its eyes, he would have to move its body close to its fangs. The whole paralysis and liquefaction process played over again in his mind, and fear started to overtake him. 

He had decided he would rather go down fighting, protecting a newly found friend, than standing stock still and pissing himself in fear. With a great leap, Marcus lunged at the spider, being very  careful to keep his lower body tucked upwards as much as he could, like an olympic high jumper. He saw the blade enter into one of the beast’s many eyes, as green liquid squirted out from the wound. The beast let out a mighty yell as Marcus grabbed on and attempted to stab at its other eyes. Unfortunately, with one forceful shake, the beast knocked the knife out of Marcus’s hand, causing it to clatter uselessly across the floor. However, Marcus did keep his grip and remained more or less on top of the creature, almost making the scene look like some giant spider rodeo. 

Scrambling on all fours to the other side of the room to retrieve her phone and nunchucks, Llama paid no attention to what was going on behind her, until she heard the loud cry of the beast! Whatever Marcus had done to it had wounded it and just as she was about to retrieve her own weapon, she saw his knife come down from the sky as if a higher power was giving her an opportunity to strike.

Bending down, Llama scooped up the knife in her hands and quickly spun on her heels to see quite the sight. Marcus was being flung around like a cowboy trying to prove his worth in a horse arena. But maybe if he could keep a tight grip on it, the distraction would give her enough time to stab what appeared to be its meaty underbelly, “Keep it distracted, Marcus! I’m going for the gut!”

Llama narrowed her eyes in determination and waited for the right moment, before running to gain momentum and throwing her body down onto her hip to slide under the massive spider. Just as she had planned it, she ended up where she needed to be to shove the knife in it’s soft belly sending the pointy end through it’s skin, but she hadn’t anticipated just where her position would put her. As the creature let out another ear piercing screech, Llama felt its fangs sink into her own stomach injecting copious amounts of venom, before she lay motionless on the ground; the knife slipping from her grip and hitting the floor once more. It was up to Marcus now to take the huge-ass spider out.

He heard Llama call out for him to keep it distracted while she went for the gut. A brilliant idea, shouting out your strategy and giving your enemy a warning that you’re about to stab them. Marcus held on to the giant spider for dear life as it kicked around like a bucking bronco. He was starting to lose his grip, and was flung off. His body slid into a corner of the room, and he bonked his head on one of the shelves that was knocked to the ground. 

He sat back up just in time to see Llama stab the beast right before it sunk its giant fangs into her. He heard a cry from her and then watched her body go stiff and motionless. He couldn’t believe it. His sense of adventure had gotten an innocent albeit adventurous soul killed. He made a mad dash to the other side of the room, towards Llama’s body. The spider’s movements were clumsy and Marcus took advantage by slipping away from various lunges that it took at him. By the time he got to Llama’s body, he saw she was still alive, but unable to move. 

He picked his knife up from off the ground and stared the giant spider down. It was definitely weakened from the stab it had already taken, and this meant that its underbelly was its weak point. Marcus planted one foot on the ground, and pounded on his chest, as if daring the monster to charge. It was as if he were a matador trying to outmaneuver a particularly scary eight legged bull. 

The spider took the bait, and Marcus sidestepped its ungraceful attempt at a charge. It crashed, bashing its own head into the wall. It backed up, very clearly dazed, and Marcus took that opportunity to strike. Marcus slid in underneath the creature and took several more deep stabs at the beast. More screams, and more green liquid poured out of the creature. He could feel the beast’s incredible weight coming down on him, so he quickly got out from underneath it. He fled to the other side of the room as he watched the beast roll onto its back and curl its legs up towards the center of its abdomen, still bleeding, but no longer moving. He was satisfied it was finally defeated. 

He then looked back towards the center of the room, at the unmoving body of his partner in crime. He was hoping for any signs of life from her. 

“Llama! Llama are you okay? Talk to me!”

Llama could feel herself fading. Her body was rigid as the venom absorbed itself into her stagnant blood stream, but ironically, she could feel an overly alarming rate of heartache. It was like losing Brody all over again, and while it wasn’t quite as bad, it was close. But it was taking longer for the deep puncture wounds to heal and there was an odd warmth around her midsection. The venom was trying to work, but it wasn’t having any success as her blood wasn’t spreading the poison like it should have. However, she could still hear the commotion going on around her. Muffled at times as she faded in and out, until she heard her name being called.

She softly groaned as the warmth was beginning to fade and the fang wounds were slowly starting to close up, but she could feel her appetite growing. It wasn’t to the extent of the firework incident and she wasn’t losing her mind quite like she was afraid of, but Llama knew if she didn’t feed soon Marcus and the owner of the store would both be in trouble.

“Marcus…” Her eyes barely opened as if there was weight resting on them as she scanned the dark room for any sign of the spider. Seeing a large folded up lump, Llama started to recognize what it was, “Did you kill it? Is it over?” She could feel her muscles loosening up and relaxing meaning she would have range of motion back soon. Already in the short amount of time she had been in Wicked’s Rest, she had started to feel like Kenny from South Park. Was this what it meant to be a zombie? Was she the universe’s own personal Barbie doll to throw around and abuse? If she was, she didn’t like it.

Marcus was very relieved to see his new friend had miraculously survived. In fact, it seemed as though she was recovering remarkably fast. 

“Yeah, we got it. It’s all over, thanks to you. Just stay where you are, I’ll call for help. That bum ass shop owner isn’t going to be much use so I’ll get an ambulance for you.” 

“Hey now, I’m no bum!” Marcus heard the shop owner behind him, turning to face the man who sent them both to their deaths. “We made an agreement, and here we are. One dead spider, and you all get to walk out with your weapons.”

Marcus was incensed by this attitude. He grabbed the shopkeep by the collar and dragged him over to Llama’s body. “Does it look like she’s going to be doing much walking? She needs to get to a hospital man, STAT”. 

“Well then you’d better call an ambulance instead of yelling at me! Take your wares and kindly leave whatever way you see fit. But I think I’ll stick with a hunter service from now on, they’re much neater about it”. 

He wanted to punch him. Slam his fist right into his face. But right now, his friend needed him. He couldn’t risk getting kicked out and losing sight of her. In a huff, he turned around and began to dial 911.

Llama let out a soft sigh knowing it was over. They had killed the first, and hopefully last, giant spider. This town was really starting to get under her skin and not in a good way. First the discovery of mares, then being shot with fireworks, and her name being stolen, and now this?! And she couldn’t forget Nora. That child was like the walking epitome of a nightmare. But somehow throughout all of it, she was starting to make friends, especially right here and right now.

Letting her eyes drift over to the confrontation that was happening, she watched as her new friend stuck up for her well being. She definitely wouldn’t be shopping here again. That was for sure, but it soon hit her like a ton of bricks. She couldn’t go to the hospital. She’d be found out. Instead, Llama slowly forced herself up onto her elbows. It was like the weight of the world was hanging over her and trying to push her back down, but she had to keep her secret safe, “Marcus, stop.”

She looked towards him with sad pleading eyes. If her heart could race, it would. Llama was about to reveal one of the biggest secrets of her life to a complete stranger, but somehow she felt safe around him. They did just fight and survive a giant arachnid after all, “There’s something I have to tell you…”

Marcus’s thumb paused before it hit the last “1” on his phone screen. Stop? Why did she want him to stop? He stole a glance over at the shopkeep and gave him a look that told him to give them some space. Thankfully, the shopkeep put up his hands in surrender and left to give the two a private space to talk. 

“What do you have to tell me? I mean whatever it is I’m sure it can wait. You’re really not looking well and need some kind of medical attention. Just stay down and try not to exert yourself too much.” 

He had seen people like her before in the field. People hit with artillery shells, incendiary flares, bullets. Pale, weak, shaking, looking completely on the verge of death. He’d call them walking corpses, but usually they crawled. Just Llama, still on the ground, on death’s door. What could be so important that she’d tell him to wait to call an ambulance?

This was either going to go really good or really bad. She had never told anyone before. Well aside from her assistant, Taylor. And it wasn’t like she really had a choice then either. As for Mateo, he just sort of found out on his own. But if Marcus had dialed the last ‘1’ and the paramedics came and started to work on her… “They’re not going to find a heartbeat. If you call 911 and they come, they’re not going to find a heartbeat.” Llama paused for a moment, “I’m already dead, Marcus. I died about two years ago doing a stunt for a TV show I was working on at the time.”

It felt so strange saying it outloud to someone she really didn’t know. At least Taylor had truly known Mackenzie. Not Llama, but Mackenzie. There was a chance this guy could blab it to the world, but it was too late now. He already knew, “I guess, the technical term is zombie? I still don’t really understand all of this, and don’t really know if I want to believe it’s real, even though I guess it is…” An evening of laughter, excitement, and even fun, had turned into something nerve-wracking, but in a weird way, cathartic. At least in the moment. She would probably regret it later, when she was back home alone sitting with her thoughts all night while some stupid show was the only source of light flashing off the walls in her huge empty and lonely house.

Groaning as she struggled to sit all the way up, Llama kept her eyes on Marcus, “Look I understand if you don’t want to be my friend after this. I’ve done stuff I’m not proud of since this happened and the only thing I could think to do was run from my problems. I’m not a good person, I know that. But tonight was, for lack of a better word, fun, and the first time I haven’t really felt so alone since being here.” There had been other times, sure, but this just felt different, especially considering she wanted him to know what she was, “But this took a lot out of me, and if I don’t eat something soon, I’m afraid of what might happen, so if you want to leave, then it’s not going to hurt my feelings. I just want you to be safe. Even that asshole shop owner who almost got us killed.”

Marcus had thought there was more than what meets the eye to this woman. After all, her fighting skills and remarkable durability seemed a bit out of place to him. He thought it was odd that a famous actress could die during a stunt without it being a huge media story, but then again he didn’t follow pop culture news very closely. For all he knew, her face was all over every major media outlet and he was none the wiser. 

Still, a zombie? He couldn’t say he’d ever met a zombie, or even knew them to actually exist. It came as a major shock to Marcus, but one thing he didn’t feel was fear. They had just taken down a horrific beast together and managed to walk away. She had her chance to either let him die or take him out at multiple different points, but she didn’t. Instead, she saved his life. There’s no way he’d run away from her now. 

“This is a lot to take in, Llama. I’ve also never heard of any actresses named Llama so I must have missed the memo about you being dead. But look at you, you saved my life. You helped me take down that…thing in the corner over there.” he said, pointing at the giant carcass. “You could probably eat that, right? Either way, I don’t want to walk out on you here. I really appreciate you telling me all of this actually. And if you do want to munch on some people, I’m hoping you’ll take care of the shop owner before me. But uh…start with the spider first and see how you feel”.

“Oh, and by the way. You’re not the only one with a secret.” With that, Marcus held up his pelt, currently on loan from William. “I’m a selkie. Or…a seal person if you’re unfamiliar. I’d transform and show you, but there isn’t any water here so I’d just kind of flop around like an idiot. There are a lot of folks around here who are more than they say they are.”

She sat quietly waiting for his reaction. It had taken a lot for her to come clean. Her entire undead life was at stake, including her career, friends back home, and even her family. And while she couldn’t help but let her mind go to the negative side of things, Marcus had really surprised her, “You’re not mad or afraid?” Llama’s expression softened, and she let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Marcus. You don’t know how much this means. And my name…it’s not really Llama according to the entire internet and half the world apparently. Some weird guy supposedly took it? I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out how to get it back, but if you want to go by everyone else, my name, according to them, is Mackenzie.”

Llama laughed softly at the comment about the owner, “As much as I want to right now…it’s probably best that I do…eat the spider instead.” Regardless of whether or not she had a gag reflex, the young actress shuddered at the thought of consuming the eight legged corpse lying just over in the corner. Luckily, she got a few more minutes of not having to consume Mr. Harry Legs when Marcus had surprisingly admitted a secret of his own.

Just like him, she was shocked. She had never heard of seal people before. Llama had always loved looking at the seals down near the water back home in California, but the fact that humans could actually change into seals was amazing. She let her eyes shift from him to the pelt he was holding, “So do those come in like designer brands or is it a sort of one style fits all?” She had to lighten the mood a little, especially after the last thing he said. “Wow, so this town really is haunted.” She looked away from him, before returning her eyes to him along with a solemn expression, “I promise to keep your secret, but in return can you please keep mine? If this gets out, I’m done. My entire life, or whatever it is now, will seriously be over.” She just wanted to know that he would stay quiet, at least before attempting to down the giant spider.

Marcus was, if nothing else, a man of his word. After all, it wasn’t like he stood to gain anything from revealing her secret. He was actually quite relieved that she met his confession with the same level of acceptance with which he met hers. She seemed more curious than anything. 

“You have my word, Mackenzie, or whatever your name may be. You’ve got a lot left to learn still about this town, it would seem.”

It would make sense that someone new to all things paranormal wouldn’t know about fae and their tendency to steal names. He’d have to give her some pointers on how not to get tricked by them. They were a crafty bunch, and even he found himself fooled every now and then. Of course, they fooled him for survival purposes, trying to keep their magic secured. They fool poor unsuspecting folks like Mackenzie for the sake of…you know now that he thought of it he wasn’t really sure. 

“These are kind of a ‘one pelt for one selkie’ kind of deal. Each one is tailored specifically for its owner, although that’s not to say other selkies can’t use pelts that belong to different people. It’s just heavily frowned upon.”

He smiled down at her, sensing her relief. 

“Again, I will never share your secret. And all I ask is you do the same for mine. I have a lot of potential enemies out here if they knew what I really was.”

So they were in agreement. These two misfits who just happened upon a strange town and met out of pure fate. Maybe it was something higher pulling them together or maybe it was just coincidence. Whatever it was, Llama wasn’t complaining, “Thank you. So fucking much.” She snorted softly, “Yeah, just a little bit.”

His explanation about the pelts made sense. It had to have been like slipping on the perfect leather jacket that felt made just for you, and as he had previously mentioned, she did have a lot to learn, including the different rules and ways of life about other creatures who weren’t zombies. Hell, Llama still had a lot to learn about herself, but she was about to discover one thing…could she handle eating a spider carcass?

“I promise. If it’s one thing you have to be good at, working in Hollywood, it’s keeping a secret. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a spider to choke down.”

Still weak and body feeling heavier than normal, Llama scooted across the floor over to the oozing, dead spider. It was another instance where she was grateful her senses were mostly dulled, especially because she was pretty sure the green ooze leaking from the creature probably smelled like ass. But with each passing moment of hesitation came the longing to feed and the possibility of becoming a threat to Marcus.

“Fuck. Okay.”

Grabbing one of the legs, Llama lifted it up to her mouth and took a huge bite. It was a little tough at first gnawing through the exoskeleton and its leg hairs kind of tickled in an odd way, but her zombie instincts soon took over and before long she was elbow deep in spider belly surprisingly enjoying herself and even the green goo that had once left her lying motionless on the floor.

From what started out as a night of obsessing over a katana turned out to be one of the most valuable days spent in Wicked’s Rest and knowing Marcus was now by her side, despite watching her consume one of the grossest things she’d ever encounter, Llama had an odd feeling that everything was going to be okay. But it totally could have just been the leg whiskers tickling her throat as they went down. 

[vigilante24ish]

The Redhead of the Sea (Jack Sparrow x Fem!OC)

Chapter 3:

Harbour, Port Royal - Day

When Jack Sparrow set foot on Port Royal for the first time, he would have never imagined that he would have to dive into the cold waters of the sea to save a young lady soon after. He had just dragged her out of the water, and with the help of two stupid soldiers, he placed her on the wooden platform of the pier.

"She is not breathing," one of the two guards stated, earning an eye-roll from the pirate.

Before he could try to give her some kiss of life or try to find a way to help her, Jack heard a new voice shouting from a distance. "It's the corset!" the voice said, making the three men turn their heads towards the source of it, only to see a red-haired woman running their way. "Take off the corset!"

Jack didn't need to be told twice before trying his best to untie the knots, but his actions were in vain. Whoever tied those knots should get a job on a ship, he thought with mild annoyance as he was humiliated by a few strings of cloth.

It was embarrassing for him, a sailor with years of experience on deck, to struggle with some corset knots.

The redhead woman finally managed to reach them, only to see the unknown man failing with the knots while the two familiar soldiers just standing there; watching. 

Ironically, both soldiers had swords and could have helped, but apparently, they were not the smartest among the hundreds of men wearing fancy uniforms.

"Unbelievable" the woman muttered as she quickly knelt next to the pirate; surprising him.

She grabbed the breast knife, surprising the men, who stared for a moment too long at the place she had just taken the knife out from. She paid them no mind as she did her best to cut the strings that were killing her adopted sister.

Jack would have helped, but he was too shocked by the young lass beside him. Her bright red hair seemed to be the orange of flames under the once again visible sun, while her eye was the most beautiful blue Jack had ever seen.

One look at it, and his mind immediately drifted to the sea, his eternal love. For a moment, he wondered how someone could have eyes like that, but his attention quickly went to the white eye patch and the tip of a scar that was barely visible beneath it.

Who would harm such a face, and why?

His mind was desperate to solve this mystery, but he was snapped back to reality by someone's coughs. He looked down only to see the blond lass coughing water while the red-haired woman was patting her back. Her small dagger was hidden once again with the expertise of a thief.

"I would have never thought of that," the other soldier said, drawing their attention.

"You haven't been to Tortuga, mate," Jack replied while secretly admitting that the knife idea was a good one and wondering if any other women carried those. Of course, suddenly, he found that it was not the best idea, considering his luck with women.

He pulled a face but focused on the present when his eyes landed on the golden medallion the almost-drowned woman wore. "Where did you get that?"

Suddenly, before he could get his answers, two new and more serious soldiers grabbed him from behind while others marched towards them. Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington quickly made their way towards the two girls.

"Elizabeth!" the two said as they helped the ladies stand on their feet and pulled them away from the pirate.

The Governor quickly removed his jacket and covered his only daughter, who was soaking wet. 

On the other hand, Artemis had the chance to fully take notice of the man who had saved her adopted sister. Upon recognising what he truly was, she could not help but narrow her single visible eye as bitter memories of her past threatened to resurface in her mind. 

Pirate, she thought in her mind.

She would recognize one from miles away, thanks to her experiences and travels. Pirates were those who had robbed her of everything she ever had, and now she had one of them standing in front of her.

Weren't the facts that were witnesses and that he had saved Elizabeth, Artemis would have attacked and stabbed the man in front of her without a moment of hesitation.

"Shoot him", the Governor suddenly ordered as he eyed the pirate cautiously.

"Father!" Elizabeth scolded him and turned to the younger man and, ironically, her fiance. "Commodore, do you intend to kill my rescuer?"

Artemis bit her bottom lip, not liking the idea of the man living, but then again, he did save her adopted sister. It was only fair not to execute him, at least. Letting him go was another thing that would have to be discussed.

"She has a point. Elizabeth wouldn't be here if it weren't for that man," she said through her teeth, taking her sister's side.

She didn't want to take his side, but she was raised to be just and fair. Her late father had tried hard to bestow those qualities upon her, and she did her best to honour them.

James looked between the two women and nodded as the soldiers lowered their swords. He did the same with his and sheathed it back to its case.

Jack silently thanked the two women and noticed that one was looking at him with fascination but the other with hatred. Artemis stood beside Elizabeth and blocked his view of her, her single eye narrowing slightly.

"I believe thanks are in order," the Commodore said, extending his hand to the pirate. The man slowly shook it, but he was pulled forward by the man in the wig. Pulling his sleeve up slightly, James exposed the 'P' branded on his wrist. "Had a brush with the East Indian Trading Company, did we? Pirate"

"Hang him", the Governor ordered once he realised what the man truly was.

"Keep your guns on him, men. Gillette, fetch some irons," Norrington ordered, pulling the man's sleeve even higher to expose a sparrow tattoo. "Well, well...Jack Sparrow, isn't it?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please, sir,"

Jack Sparrow? Artemis frowned her eyebrows as she tried to recall if she had heard that name before. For some reason, it sounded familiar but she couldn't pinpoint from where exactly.

"Well, I do not see your ship...Captain."

"I am on the market, as it were."

"He said he had come to commandeer one," Murtogg, one of the two soldiers who were with him from the beginning, said.

"I told you he was telling the truth. These are his, sir," Mulroy said right after and grabbed the things that belonged to the Pirate.

An old brown and worn-out hat, a gun, a compass and a sword. James grabbed the gun first and inspected it. "No additional shot, no powder," he stated. He gave it back to the soldier and grabbed the compass. "A compass that doesn't point north"

Artemis tilted her head slightly as she noticed the circles inside the compass moving clockwise and reverse for no apparent reason. Something was odd about that compass; she could feel it. James pulled the sword slightly out of its sheath and smirked as he inspected the cheap metal before sheathing it again.

"And I half expected it to be made of wood", he joked. "You are, without a doubt, the worst pirate I have ever heard of."

"But you have heard of me," Jack said and the redhead blinked.

Does this guy think this is a game? Can't he see how serious this situation is?

James didn't seem to like Jack at all, but he quickly grabbed his forearm and started to pull him away. Elizabeth wasn't about to let it happen.

"Commodore, I really must protest," she said as she followed them.

"Careful, lieutenant," Norrington said, handing the pirate to the soldier, who started to put the iron shackles around him.

"Pirate or not, this man saved my life", she continued as she stood before the Pirate and eyed the young man.

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness"

"Though it seems enough to condemn him" Jack added.

"Indeed," Artemis said before James could, and she grabbed Elizabeth by the arm, pulling her back as the two exchanged places. "And saving your life or not, this man has been asking for it with his actions. Liking it or not, he is to be hanged."

"Artemis, you wouldn't let an innocent man get hanged"

"He is not innocent", she hissed back at her.

Elizabeth had known Artemis since they were children. She knew her hatred for Pirates, but she still believed that this man should be left to walk free. Pirate or not, he had saved her life.

"Finally," Jack said out of the blue and wrapped the chains that connected his suckles around Artemis' neck, pulling her against him.

"Artemis!" her sister exclaimed in surprise, fear visible in her brown eyes as she did not expect the man, who had just saved her, to kill her sister just like that.

"Don't shoot!" Commodore shouted right after Elizabeth as the men raised their guns at the duo.

"I do not know why you hate me so much, but sooner or later, you will warm up to me," Jack whispered to Artemis' ear as she struggled, but he pulled with a little more force than he wanted. He didn't want to hurt the redhead; it wasn't him to hurt others like that. He would give it to her, though; she was not afraid. "Commodore Norrington, my effects, please... and my hat."

"No, don't. Just shoot both of us already," Artemis shouted back, and the men looked hesitant to obey the adopted daughter of the Governor.

"Artemis!" the man and her guardian said in disbelief at what he was listening to. "Don't you dare shoot unless given command!"

"Don't fight me, Lassie. Play nice, and both of us will walk out of here alive," he whispered to her ear as she struggled to move her head away from him. "Commodore," he said out loud as he noticed that the man was hesitant.

James was left with no choice. He would not mind letting her at his mercy, for the redhead had been a thorn by his side since she was a child.

However, he knew he could not do that because 1) Elizabeth would never forgive him, and 2) The Governor did outrank him at that moment, and he could not really be seen as bad in front of his father-in-law. Could he now?

In the end, he was forced to take what Jack had requested from a soldier and hold them in his arms while turning to face Artemis and Jack.

"Artemis, wasn't it?" Jack whispered in her ear once again.

"It's Miss Hazelstone to you," she hissed back as she glared at him from the corner of her visible eye.

"Miss Hazelstone, if you would be so kind. Come, come, dear, we don't have all day," Jack reminded her as James handed her the belongings. The Pirate was quick to spin her, so she faced him. His hands were once again around her neck, now the chain pressuring the back of it, making sure she wouldn't try to do anything. "Now, if you would be very kind," he continued, managing to take a proper look at her.

The bang that covered her hair had been moved to the side slightly, exposing more of the white eye patch on her left eye. Then, the visible eye with a shade of blue rivalled the sea itself. Artemis glared at him as she placed the hat on his head, making sure to use more force than necessary. Then, it was the belt, which she had to embrace and wrap around his waist.

Jack had leaned forward and rested his head on her shoulder during that short time, taking in the scent of her red hair and giving a wicked smile to the two men. Then, he returned to his original position as Artemis buckled the belt.

"Easy on the goods, darling," he said, and a smirk found its way on her lips as she pulled much harder, causing the man to slightly flinch.

"What goods?" she said, raising her head to look at him, their faces inches apart.

"Feisty, aren't we? Well, love, sticks and stones. I saved your friend's life, so now you save mine. We are square" With those words, he turned her once again and held the chains against her neck but also the gun close to her head as he took a few steps back.

"Gentlemen, my ladies", he started, looking at Elizabeth and then at Artemis. "You will always remember this as the day that you almost caught... Captain, Jack... Sparrow" With the last words leaving his lips, he released the redhead and pushed her forward as he started to run the other way.

The Governor caught her before she could fall forward. They all turned to look back at the soldiers attacked.

However, Jack was one step ahead. He grabbed a rope and kicked a mechanism, causing the rope to be pulled up along with him.

At the same time, a canon was falling as it was tied by the other end of the rope that the Pirate used to help himself escape. The canon fell on the docks and broke the wood with its weight, creating a hole.

The soldiers didn't manage to stop, and some of them fell straight into the water. The rest looked up as Jack was hanging from the rope and was spinning reverse clockwise while the wooden structure supported him.

"Now, will you shoot him?" the Governor asked as Artemis turned her body to better see the weird and surprisingly lucky Pirate.

"Open fire!" James ordered, and the men started to shoot but missed each one of them.

The redhead rolled her eyes, and if she hadn't been held by the arm by Elizabeth and her father, she would have grabbed one of the guns from those aimless soldiers and shot the man down on her own.

Finally, Jack landed on another wooden beam and let go of the rope.

"On his heels!" the Commodore shouted, and along with his soldiers, he rushed to catch up with Jack, who had used a rope to slip down and then ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.

Chapter 3

[elsewhereuniversity]

The fae didn’t really understand time as mortals did. The thing that lived under the glade certainly didn’t. It was vaguely aware that sometimes humans came and sometimes they left, and when they came that was a Fresh Man, and when they left that was a Graduation. It was less clear on the finer details, but what it boiled down to was an ever changing variety of prey to sniff out and play with. That was all most humans were to it; something to hunt for food or entertainment, whichever struck its fancy.

Most of the creatures it was acquainted with, then, would see it preparing for the party and assume it was hungry (or bored, as the case may be). They would be wrong. True, it wouldn’t turn down a snack, if it was convenient, but it had other plans for the night as well. Rosalind’s graduation party was supposed to be a small, intimate get-together for those who knew Rosalind best. It had decided that after three and a half years of surveillance, it was one of those who knew Rosalind best, and invitation or not, it deserved to be there.

So here it was, disguised as a handsome youth with dark hair and glittering brown eyes, walking towards the clearing in the forest as if it possessed one of the few invitations Rosalind had seen fit to send out. Someone stopped it just as the lights came into view.

“Sorry, I need to see your invitation-” the girl began, hand already on a poker thrust through a belt. The creature turned its gaze to her, giving its best imitation of a friendly smile. It probably looked grotesque, but the glamor did its work, and the girl withdrew her hand, looking slightly dazed. “Oh- never mind…” she trailed off, as if expecting a name. It would need one of those, it supposed.

“Windcutter,” it said, gracing the girl with another smile. She blushed, waving it through. It was that easy. It was always that easy. It frowned for a second. Was something strange? It dismissed that thought nearly immediately. It was just imagining things, distracting itself from the reason it was here.

The newly christened Windcutter swept its gaze around the party. There were little lights in glass bubbles- faerie lights, he remembered dimly from some conversation. The mood lighting was entirely lost on something with perfect night vision, but it highlighted Rosalind’s face as she hopped down from a tree, brushing off her clothes. Unconsciously, Windcutter’s hand went to its shoulder as phantom pain tingled down the equivalent of its arm.

It was supposed to be easy. The mortals’ minds did most of the work for it; once they hit the glamor, they would fabricate details to cover up any of the little holes. The trick, it had learned, was to add some mild imperfections- these days, the students were wary of anyone too pretty. It had worked for- well, for however long it had been before Rosalind came along.

She was Gar then, one of the Fresh Men, and her roommate had been Koi. Oddly, it barely remembered what Koi smelled like, just that when it saw her at a party, it had deigned it the superior of the two. It had been simple to flirt with her, throw up enough charm that anything it said would attract it, that no warning bells had gone off.

And when Gar had left the party, gone into the back alley, and found it with what remained of Koi, it had been child’s play to send a wave of glamor at her so strong that it wouldn’t have been surprised if Gar had let it consume her as well. It was, understandably, a little surprised when Gar pulled a solid-iron knife and stabbed it. The surprise was nothing compared with the pain, though, and it had… well. It was embarrassing, but it had run, crawling under the glade to metaphorically lick its wounds. It had been mildly perturbed to find that even after it healed, any form it took had a little silver line of scar on the shoulder.

That was how the story ended, somehow. Gar had turned to the knights, and then turned herself to a knight. Somewhere along the way she became Rosalind, and all along the way the creature watched the mortal being that had wounded it for the only time in its long, long life. Its feelings were somewhere between fear and fascination- it had never bothered to follow up on any mortal before, but it had watched as Rosalind declared her major (in “biology”, but everyone knew she was Forbidden Major), had chartered a truce between some of the forbidden majors and the courts, had disappeared for three weeks and reappeared looking haggard but none the worse for wear. This was its last chance to see her up close, so for tonight, it was not hunting. It was… mingling.

It approached one of the party guests milling around. The boy smiled at it as it lightly prodded its influence to surround him.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s…”

“Windcutter,” Windcutter supplied.

“Right, Windcutter, from…”

“School." 

"Windcutter from school,” he said, blinking and nodding. “I remember, yeah. How are you?”

This close, Windcutter could see the freckles on his face, smell the sweat on him, and it had to remind itself that it was there to see Rosalind, not to hunt. The boy was still smiling, it realized, waiting for it to answer as it stared hungrily at him.

“I am well,” it said, a truthful answer. “And you?”

“Looking forward to the rest of the night,” he said, leaning conspiratorially towards Windcutter. “I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“Bond,” said a clear voice that Windcutter had listened to for three years, “are you monopolizing…”

“Windcutter,” Windcutter said again, turning the full force of its smile to Rosalind. Once again, it had the nagging feeling that something was off, and it had to resist the urge to scratch its shoulder.

“Are you monopolizing Windcutter?” Rosalind finished.

“Not if you want to talk to them,” Bond said. He flashed another charming smile at Windcutter, who made a mental note to see if he could be lured into the woods. “I’ll just go take care of other business, shall I?”

“Sure,” Rosalind said, rolling her eyes. “And make sure that the guards are on alert!” she yelled after his retreating form.

“Guards?” Windcutter said, tilting its head coquettishly to one side. It was just as well that it had glamor to cover for it- it could never remember how far humans were supposed to be able to do that. “Is something the matter?”

“Well, friend,” Rosalind said, then squinted quizzically at it. “Did I never tell you about this?”

“I believe not.”

“Huh.” She looked down. “Well, my friend, this may sound crazy, but I believe that something has been watching me for the past few years.”

“Watching you?” It could have laughed.

“It sounds farfetched, yes, but… I can feel its eyes on me, sometimes. I think I know what it is, too.”

“Do tell,” it purred.

“Do you remember my roommate?”

“Koi, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Rosalind looked away. “Koi. Well, something took her freshman year.”

“How terrible.” It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or disappointed; relieved it was in no danger, disappointed that Rosalind was so far below its estimation.

“I found her,” Rosalind said. “And that thing standing over her. It tried to make me… I don’t really know. Forget, or stop caring, but I was so angry that it just washed over me, and I stabbed it, and it ran.”

“How brave of you.” The creature shifted in place slightly. Something was definitely strange here. It felt… it didn’t know. Something.

“I didn’t really have much choice,” Rosalind said with a laugh. She drew a sword, idly flipping it in her hand. “It was instinct. I think if it was anything else, I wouldn’t be here today. Whatever it did- did you know, somehow it had managed to make her take off her iron and salt?”

The creature knew, of course it did, it-

Wait.

Rosalind was no fool. She couldn’t be, in order to have lived this long as a knight or a Forbidden Major. Protection was basic enough that even the newest and most naive knew to have it, to demand to see it.

And it had gotten this far without any protection at all. No lines of salt, no running water, nothing. The fact they hadn’t touched it with iron or salt could be put down to its power, but not the basic, rudimentary safety procedures for an outdoor party.

Alarm bells started ringing in Windcutter’s head. Who held a party outside, in the woods, in the dark?

“We were close, did you know that?” Rosalind continued. She still wasn’t looking at it. “She even told me her true name. Trusting to a fault." 

"I… should go,” Windcutter said. It had ignored its instincts for too long. Something was wrong.

“It was Rosalind,” Rosalind said. “I never forgot.” And then, finally, she met its eyes.

Windcutter jerked back, a hiss of revulsion bubbling from its throat. It was not Rosalind’s eyes in her face: they glittered as if cut from gems, and, worse, it knew somehow that she could see it, really, see it. It felt suddenly like a butterfly pinned to paper, trying to squirm away from that horrible perception. It turned, still hissing, to see Bond returning, armed with a spear. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and now that it was looking, it realized that his eyes glittered similarly. All of the partygoers eyes did, they- they could all see it- 

“A little deal with the Spring Queen,” Rosalind said conversationally behind it. “Three weeks of my time to serve her, and for every day, an hour of Sight and a clear mind for someone at my little soiree.”

It bolted then, half-mad with the eyes of the party boring into it. It sprinted into the woods, then screamed as it hit the salt line, scrambling back on burning feet. Of course there was a salt line now. They had lured it in.

“Tell me,” Rosalind said as it whirled. She was on guard now, sword out and willing. “Why did you watch me?”

“Never been hurt before,” it said, the truth being dragged out almost against its will. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be above its prey.

“Really.”

“You’re leaving soon,” it said. Offering a deal was something it hadn’t done before, but it needed a way out, and Rosalind’s speech had given it an idea. “Let me out and I can promise you you’ll forget what happened to her. You can let go of the anger.”

“Who told you I was leaving?” Rosalind smiled, all teeth and no friendliness. “My classes are over, but I’m staying. Someone has to make sure beasts like you don’t hunt for too long.”

The creature hadn’t ever really had to fight; nobody had armed themselves against it, after all. Its claws slid out almost involuntarily as the fear and rage flowed through it, rendering it incapable of human speech. It hissed again defiantly.

“That’s right,” Rosalind said, her voice almost hypnotically soothing. “It’s you or me. One of us leaves tonight, the other one stays here forever.” Without moving her eyes from the creature, she jerked her head over her shoulder. “The salt line has a break in it behind me. Get through me, and you can leave.”

Frightened, cornered, the creature growled deep in its throat and unthinkingly sprang.

-bean

[in-my-feels-probably]

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter Four

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more.

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of. 

Chapter Four

Elham had wiped most of the blood from her face, patching up what she could. She could feel the bruises already forming, one across her left eyebrow, which had a nasty gash through it, and one across her right cheekbone, as well as a cut and bruised lip, courtesy of Pekka Rollins. She was following Kaz down the stairs and across the club floor, headed to Jesper, who was seated at the bar.

Kaz was absolutely fuming. His pace was quick, even with his cane broken, and Elham, whose eye was beginning to swell a bit, struggled to keep up. They approached Jesper at the bar, who turned to look at the pair, eyes widening when he noticed Kaz's disheveled appearance.

"You alright, boss?" Kaz slung back Jesper's shot, earning a look of exasperation. He turned to complain to Elham, only to suck in a breath at Elham's appearance.

"Saints, love, are you alright?" Jesper gently held her chin in his hand, lightly turning her face towards the light to check her injuries. She pulled her face from his grasp, offering him a small smile instead, patting his arm.

"I've certainly been better, Jesper. Thank you, though."

"We've been warned off the job."

Jesper hesitated before questioning. "By who?"

Kaz turned to Jesper, a grimace on his face. "Who do you think?"

"Did he remember you?"

Kaz pulled his watch from his pocket, checking the time. "If he had, I'd be dead."

Elham flinched at that, and Kaz continued. "Sunrise is in five hours."

Jesper tugged Elham along and followed Kaz, who had headed for the floor. "Yeah, but we're off the job now, right?"

Kaz glanced at Elham, who just shook her head. "Never make decisions out of fear, Jesper. Only out of spite."

"Well, greed always worked well for me."

Kaz looked unimpressed. "Go guard the door."

Jesper sighed, and Elham gave his hand a quick squeeze, before letting him go. Once he left, Elham was left next to Kaz, who was running his gloved hand through his hair, scanning the room. He suddenly stopped scanning, before motioning to a guard at the door. "I have to handle this, go keep Jesper company."

Elham chuckled, turning to walk towards the door. "Babysitting. It's what I do best."

---

Jesper was messing around, slinging his guns around his fingers, doing everything he possibly could to annoy Elham.

"You're such an idiot."

He turned to face her smirking. "Yeah, but--"

"Jesper." Inej had appeared in front of them, making Jesper jump out of his skin, clutching his chest. Elham laughed at that.

"How do you do that?"

Inej didn't look amused. "...I need your help."

"Of course, love. Doing what?"

Inej stepped closer, a pained look on her face. Elham had stood up now, walking towards her. "I need you to kill a man for me."

Jesper laughed, scoffing. "Ugh, why me? You've got as many knives as I've got teeth."

Inej only frowned, murmuring quietly. "You know why."

"Yeah. But how is getting me to do it any different from you doing it? Besides, we've got the Valkyrie right here, I'm sure she'd be happy to."

"Inej, he's right, you don't have to do this, I can do it. Just tell me who he is, love, I'll handle it."

Before Inej could even let out a sigh of relief, Kaz called from down the alley, making them turn their heads toward him. "Jesper! New job, Elham, come with me."

Elham and Jesper turned back to Inej, but she was already gone. Elham's heart filled with dread, knowing she wouldn't be able to find and get to Inej before she had gone through with it. "Damn it, Kaz. What now?"

Kaz didn't even bat an eye. "Come along."

---

Elham paid no attention to Kaz and Jesper's conversation, something about needing a demo man. She trudged along behind them, hoping Inej was alright. She was beginning to feel naked without her sword on her, vulnerable in the streets of Ketterdam. Sure, she could fight, but nothing like how she could with her sword.

Jesper suddenly stopped, putting his hand on Kaz's arm, halting them. Kaz's eyes immediately looked down to Jesper's hand on his coat, and Elham as subtly as she could stepped in between them, separating the two. Jesper paid no mind to this, seeming to not notice. "Aren't we on Pekka's turf?"

"I go to Heleen now and ask for her buyout, she knows I need Inej and sets a price I can't pay."

"That's evil. Well, how do you know that?"

Kaz hesitated. "...It's what I would do."

Elham scoffed at that, shaking her head, muttering to herself. "Saints."

"Besides, Inej refuses to kill. Would you trust her in a matter of life and death?"

Before Jesper could even speak, Elham had stepped in front of Kaz, staring him down. "Did you really just ask that? Of course I would trust her, just as much as I would trust you!"

Kaz seemed surprised at her outburst. Jesper stepped from foot to foot, uncomfortable by the staring contest going on in front of him. "You want to tell me why we're scoping out a rival club?"

"To have a talk with an old business partner."

"The bouncers will know you on sight."

"That's why I brought you. Make sure they don't see me." Kaz turned to face Elham, referring to Jesper. "Watch them."

Jesper straightened up, getting ready. "On it, Boss."

Kaz smirked. 'I wasn't talking to you." And then he was gone.

Jesper scoffed, and Elham cracked a grin. "I am the babysitter, you know. Now get to work, try not to get us killed."

Jesper grumbled, pulling his pistol from its holster. "Yes, mother."

Elham rolled her eyes, slipping away from Jesper and to one of the nearby carts, pretending to look like one of the pigeons who'd come in from the harbour to visit the clubs.

A little while later, Kaz came down one of the back alleys in a hurry. Elham met his eyes, and saw the look of urgency. She quickly grabbed onto Jesper's coat and followed Kaz down the street, pulling him with her.

---

Elham was following Kaz still, running up the steps behind him. He had explained to her something about the Conductor, a man with a supposedly safe way to cross the Fold, and he was the man Inej was sent to kill, baited with her freedom by Tante Heleen.

They had made it to the top of the stairs, to see Inej leaned over the Conductor, a knife held in her hand, ready to strike.

Kaz motioned for Elham to get out of the way. "Don't."

Inej released the knife, sending it flying towards Kaz's head, it stuck into the board right next to his head. Elham sucked in a breath, Inej trembling. Kaz took a deep breath as well. "He's our way to Alina Starkov."

Inej grimaced, pressing her arm further into the man's neck. "Him?"

"Heleen knew it, she was using you to sabotage our mission."

Inej shook her head in disbelief. "She and I made a deal."

Kaz stepped towards Inej, Elham following. "It isn't worth more than what we get with him alive."

Inej turned to face the pair. "You'd choose him over my freedom?"

Elhams eyes began to tear, a lump forming in her throat. Kaz continued. "You assume it's one or the other."

Inej took a deep breath, turning back to the Conductor. She removed her knife from his neck, nicking at the skin, leaving a small cut. Kaz let his posture relax, moving towards the conductor.

Elham pulled Inej into her, wrapping one arm around her shoulder, the other moving to hold her hand. Kaz stepped in front of the two. "Conductor. I have a job for you. Get us to the Little Palace."

---

Not long after, Jesper and Inej were out preparing for the heist. Kaz and Elham were being let into Tante Heleen's office, who sat at her desk in fancy clothes, a cigarette lit. Elham glared, it taking everything in her not to launch the knife strapped to her thigh right into Heleen's chest. Just for good measure, Kaz stood in front of her, blocking her from view.

"I'm taking her, and when we return I'll have the buyout to clear the books. Until then, this is my collateral." Kaz had stepped forward, handing her a sealed envelope.

Heleen chuckled, taking the envelope and opening it. "What do you have that could possibly be enough?" She removed the piece of paper, revealing the deed to the Crow Club.

"The Crow Club? Well, I stand corrected."

Elham had convinced Kaz to use it as collateral earlier that night, promising him that the heist would pay off, and if it didn't work, she would do whatever it took to pay him back. Elham stepped around Kaz, who gave her a warning glance.

"Heleen...if we make it back, but without the kruge, you aren't taking the Crow Club. And you aren't keeping Inej. You're gonna take me."

Kaz's eyes filled with fear, his voice now uneasy. "Elham--"

"Don't, Kaz." She turned back to Heleen. "I'm half Suli, half Zemeni. I'll be your new lynx, or fawn, or whatever it is you decide to call me if it comes to it. I...I've got experience."

Kaz's face fell, his posture rigid. She hadn't told him that. Heleen raised an eyebrow, watching the pair.

A few months before Kaz had found her, nobody would hire her. There were no odd jobs to be found, and she was desperate. She found a little club at the edge of the Barrel near the harbour, who was taking in new girls. Elham had voluntarily signed a contract of employment, barely being paid enough to get by. But she wasn't indentured to the owner, and that was what was most important to her.

She did what she had to do. After the first month or so, it got easier. She only came in on nights where she had nowhere else she could go, and in exchange for a bed and food, and a small wage, she worked. After a few months, she had enough saved up to quit, to go look for other jobs she could scam her way into.

What Kaz also didn't know, is that the night he found her, she was working for the last little bit of kruge that could get her by. Another week or so, and she would have been right back at the club.

Elham wouldn't turn around. She wouldn't meet Kaz's gaze. Instead, she kept her eyes on Heleen. "So? Do we have a deal?"

Heleen stood. "Alright, little fawn. You've got yourself a deal. Now step aside, Mr. Brekker and I were talking."

Elham stepped back, lowering her gaze so she wouldn't have to meet Kaz's eyes. He slowly stepped forward, standing in front of Heleen, who was smirking. She held out her hand for him to shake. He slowly took it. "Inej is yours to lose now."

She peered around him, glancing at Elham, who was trying to be as stoic as she could. Heleen leaned in closer to Kaz, still talking to him, but her eyes kept glancing between him and Elham.

"It's all yours to lose."

Kaz nodded, turning around and walking out of Heleen's office, Elham following.

---

They walked back to the Crow Club in silence. Once they arrived, they made it up the stairs to Kaz's office, and Elham turned to go to her room.

"Elham?"

She turned to Kaz, keeping her gaze on the floor.

"Look at me."

She finally gave in, slowly glancing up, expecting to see disgust or disappointment. She saw none of that. Instead, it was a look of pity, which was almost worse.

"Do you need something, or can I go find Inej, get this moving quicker?"

Kaz's eyes softened, and he motioned for her to follow him into his office, a more private place. Once inside, he motioned for her to sit in her chair by the window. She did, slowly sitting, and he pulled his chair closer to her.

He sat across from her, trying to find the right thing to say. He finally settled on something.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I wouldn't have cared. I didn't look at Inej any differently when I found her, why would I look at you any different? And why, why the fuck would you do that? Offer yourself up like that to Heleen. I wouldn't have even brought you in there if I knew you were gonna do something as unbelievably stupid as that!"

Elham felt shame creeping through her, feeling uneasy in her chair, trying to sink further into it. She mumbled, her voice unsteady. "I don't know. I just knew that I couldn't let Inej go back there, not after seeing her so close to freedom tonight. And I couldn't let you potentially lose the Crow Club, not after watching you for years work to build it up. This seemed like the easiest option. If it comes to it, I can handle it."

"No."

"What?"

"No. You're not going back there. I don't care what I have to do, we're getting this kruge. We have to. I have to." Kaz was seething now leaning back in his chair, running his hands through his hair.

His broken cane was leaning against his desk, and Elham picked it up, bringing it closer to her. Kaz stilled, watching her movements now. She slowly slid it closer to him, tapping the end to the base of his ankle, like he had done so many times before to her.

His breath hitched, he was still not moving.

She offered him a small smile. "We're gonna get this kruge. Nobody's going back to Heleen. I trust you."

He gave her a small nod, his lips turning up into the ghost of a smile. "Come on, we're almost out of time. Let's go."

---

A/N - hey guys! i really hope you like this chapter, it's kinda long and it's a lot to handle, but we're so close to actually getting out of ketterdam and getting this heist moving, so i packed a lot in this chapter. i'm slowly gonna start releasing more and more about elham, so i hope you're ready for that. anyways, let me know what you think! feel free to comment or message me with anything, and check out my other work. thank you so much for the support!

[peaceoutofthepieces]

you were my crown

chapter 1

Ao3

hi, I finally got tired of waiting. I’ll do my best to update weekly. hopefully you all enjoy :)

~^~

The rest of the kingdom woke before Jens.

He came to when a thick strip of sunlight was already streaming through the windows, further illuminating the already-sparkling gold tones of the room. The ends of the chandelier glittered at him from underneath the canopy at the bottom of his bed. His crown sat forebodingly at the foot. None of these rays woke him. It wasn’t the sight but the sounds, heavy, repetitive bangs on his door accompanied by a familiar voice.

“Rise and shine,” Senne de Smet shouted through the wood. “You have less than an hour to get your fancy gear on and eat before the boys get here. I’d recommend opening this door within the next five minutes unless you want cold breakfast.”

Jens groaned then let the complaint melt into a sigh as he burrowed further into his silk sheets. They had crept down along his arm overnight, slipping off his shoulder, and he resisted the urge to pull them back up to his chin and curl into the warmth. He had already closed his eyes again, head still drowsy and body still heavy, glittering dreams still holding him under. Vague images stuck with him, flashes of silver and blue, scars and swords, and he rubbed them away as he pushed himself up onto one hand. The muscles in his arm trembled under his weight, not yet having enough energy for the day, and it was this thought that finally drew him out of bed and towards the door.

He didn’t care much to cover himself, pulling the heavy mahogany doors open in just his sleep trousers. It didn’t matter that he was shivering in the autumn air, barefoot and bare-chested as he was. Senne’s threats always fell true, and Jens’s stomach wouldn’t forgive him for making it survive the day without a proper breakfast.

Senne was leaning against the far wall, and he grinned cheerfully as Jens peeked through the door. Much too cheerful for this time of day. He did hold, however, a steaming plate of food that contained a collection of Jens’s favourites, so he could possibly be forgiven. He slipped in past Jens and Jens followed with his nose in the air, the delicious scents wafting up with the smoke and instantly making his stomach rumble.

“I was worried I was going to have to barge in here again,” Senne said, still too lively as he plonked the breakfast plate down on the table a few feet from the foot of the bed.

Jens sighed but dropped into the head seat, slumping against the plush back with his head drooping forward. He rubbed at his eyes again and murmured, “Remind me why I never punished you for that.”

Senne shrugged. “Because you know you wouldn’t survive without me.” He stole an apple from the fruit bowl in the center of the table and tossed it into the air, catching it one-handed. “Otherwise, you’d be stuck with Sander.”

Jens tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You make a good point. Why’s he not the one banging down my door?”

“He’s already leading drills. You let all your friends do the work for you while you’re all wrapped up in dreamland,” Senne teased, flicking the side of his head.

Jens was grateful when the older boy dropped into the adjacent chair at his right instead of leaving. “Don’t abuse me, I’m the Prince,” he muttered, collecting his fork and knife from next to the plate and beginning to prod at a sausage. “When are the others getting here?”

“Shouldn’t be long. They’re likely already on their way.”

Jens nodded, getting some food onto his fork and then staring at it. His stomach pleaded and protested at once. He couldn’t use the excuse that it was too early, but it was certainly too soon after waking.

Senne kicked him lightly under the table. “Eat your breakfast. With your schedule today you probably won’t get anything else until your dinner.”

That wasn’t unusual, and it also wasn’t what Jens wanted to hear. “You’re like an overbearing parent all on your own.”

“I’m only two years older than you,” Senne reminded him, fixing the cuffs of his blue tunic with apple still in hand. “It’s just also my job to look after you.”

“As my guard,” Jens muttered, “not my mother.”

Senne heaved out a sigh. “Sadly, I’m not lucky enough to be the queen, no.”

Jens snorted and didn’t bother with a reply. His breakfast was already getting hard to swallow, but depending on how the day would go, it could be the only meal he would have for a while. He could manage to shovel it down as long as he didn’t also have to try to speak. Senne didn’t seem bothered, lounging in his own chair and eating his apple, and Jens appreciated it. It was always nice, to have a sound outside of himself to break up the silence. Senne and Sander knew this, and often indulged him, but while Sander filled the space with chatter and teasing and on the most drastic occasions, music, Senne provided a more stoic presence. A silent but steady company. Jens appreciated it most in the mornings.

But even this couldn’t last forever.

Senne rose from his chair and rounded the table to chuck the remnants of his apple in the fireplace. Jens rolled his eyes but didn’t protest—even if it lay there long enough to smell, it would be ashes by the time Jens returned to his room tonight, and that was enough for him. Senne set a hand on his shoulder on the way past and squeezed. “I trust you can handle yourself from here?”

Jens hummed around another mouthful of food. “I’m good. Thanks.” He wasn’t, but he just had to scrape up the remnants of this meal and then he could join his friends, so maybe he was. Either way, Senne had better things to do than hang around and babysit him. He would be fine.

“Ah, he remembers some manners,” Senne teased, squeezing his shoulder once more before heading for the door. “Have fun and don’t die.”

It was, honestly, sound advice, and Senne’s tone wasn’t entirely teasing. Still, Jens huffed between bites and waved him off. A few seconds later he heard the heavy door fall shut. It took him considerably longer to get through the rest of his breakfast, each swallow seeming more difficult as his stomach started a protest. Eventually he managed to clear the plate, and then he took another minute to pour and down a cup of water.

He moved to his wardrobe and plucked out the first tunic within reach. There wasn’t much variety to pick from, anyway. (There was, but he wouldn’t have been caught dead in anything frilly, so it was slightly more limited. He also heavily favoured red. Exceptions were made for grey now and again.) Alongside the red tunic, he dug out one of dozens of pairs of black trousers. For now, he’d be allowed to dress himself. Depending on what his mother had planned for later in the day, this was subject to change.

For now, though, he was free, and finally on his way to the library.

This was not to do some—or any—reading. The library was reserved for members of the castle or invited guests only, and most members of the castle were not frequent visitors. Few of the knights had much interest in the dusty books on offer, and the majority of the servants preferred gossiping and get-togethers once they were free of their work. This meant that, most of the time, the library was relatively empty and easily taken over, and this was often what Jens and his friends did.

The library was quiet when he entered, as expected. It was already brightly lit through the long stained-glass windows, dust shimmering in the air as it fell from ancient texts. The books were endless, spreading out for what seemed like miles in every direction. Jens had gotten lost between the shelves as a child. There was, however, a wide open space in the center leading from the door right to a staircase at the back, which led up to an attic space Jens believed no one had entered in years and that was even dustier than down there. Various tables and sofas took up this section of the floor, mahogany and velvet creating a rich mix of red and brown.

On one of these sofas lounged Robbe Ijzermans, Jens’s best (and once only) friend.

He was spread across it with one leg kicked up along the cushions and a book open in his hands, seeming deeply immersed. He looked up, however, as Jens entered, and immediately grinned and snapped the book shut—after marking his place.

“You’re late,��� he teased.

“I am perfectly on time. You’re early,” Jens retorted. “The others aren’t even here yet.”

Robbe waved a dismissive hand. “Well, I don’t have as far to travel.”

It was true that he didn’t, so much so that he might have been even closer to the library than Jens. There were not many residents of the castle who weren’t either of royal blood or a servant, but Robbe was an exception. He had lived here with his mother for as long as Jens could remember, as the woman was a long-time friend of the Queen’s and a previous Lady, until her Lord had up and vanished without a word. She had been distraught, and unable to look after her young son alone. Jens’s mother had taken them in on a rare act of love that no one had ever dared to question.

Jens didn’t care what the reasons were, only that it had given him Robbe. It made them almost more than friends—brothers in all but blood. A lot of the time Jens wished they shared the same lineage. Robbe would have made a much better successor to the throne. He was already treated like a Prince by the entire kingdom.

Robbe shifted to set both feet on the ground so Jens could sit next to him. He realised they were another mixture of those rich tones, blood and rust mingling as he slumped back and let their shoulders press. Robbe, like Jens, had a preference in colours and an aversion to frills.

“You can’t be tired when you’re likely only awake,” Robbe protested, but he didn’t push Jens away.

Jens let his head loll against the backrest and narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I ate breakfast. I dressed. I know I’m talented at many things, Robbe, but even I can’t do that in my sleep. Senne gave me a very kind wake-up call a while ago, don’t worry.”

Robbe huffed. “Senne is nice. You’re just whiny.”

Before Jens could protest, the door burst open again and permitted loud greetings.

Moyo Makadi entered with his arms spread, pushed along on a food trolley by Aaron Jacobs. Jens instantly covered his face with a hand, both to block out the sight of more food and Moyo’s cheeky wave. Moyo hopped off the cart and barely managed to help Aaron draw it to a stop before it crushed Jens and Robbe’s legs.

“Oops,” Moyo said. “Hello, you royal asses.”

Robbe snorted as Jens finally dropped his hand and rolled his eyes. He was unable to stop a smile, however, as Aaron immediately slipped in to gather him and Robbe in a hug. Moyo simply slapped hands with them both and dropped onto the closest free space, another lush sofa set at an angle to the one Jens and Robbe already occupied. Aaron settled next to him and they finally struck up a conversation.

“So, what flashy business is happening today that gathered us all here?” Moyo questioned, mock-intent as he rested his chin on his fist and raised his brows at Jens.

Jens shrugged. He wasn’t always kept in the loop regarding this information, himself. “A trial of some sort, I think.” It would, inevitably, cut this little get-together short, for him at least.

“I would love to be you,” Aaron pouted at Jens. “You get to know everything.”

Jens didn’t bother pointing out that this was far from the truth, as he in fact felt he knew very little. “You can take my place if you like,” he offered, shrugging.

Many would think him ungrateful, entitled, and maybe that is exactly what these thoughts made him, but he was really just tired. He was exhausted, constantly. He shouldn’t have been, considering he was literally served everything on a silver platter, and didn’t really have to work for anything as far as the outer world was concerned. Sitting on a throne as a pretty accessory was hardly effort, after all.

He thought maybe it was this that tired him. Monotony was supposed to be tiring, wasn’t it? He was tired from doing nothing while also doing everything. He was tired of being expected to do it with a regal aura he wasn’t sure he even had.

He might have also been tired of doing it alone.

“Are you giving away the place of Prince, now?” Moyo cocked a brow, then slapped his hands together. “I’ll gladly take any going positions.”

“You can take Jens’s and I’ll take Robbe’s,” Aaron agreed.

Robbe made a small sound of protest, sitting up straighter and removing the support under Jens’s shoulder, leaving him to tilt sideways and almost knock his face into Robbe’s back. “I didn’t offer any position. I’m perfectly content right where I am.”

“You basically live in your own castles anyway,” Jens pointed out. “But you don’t have to sit in and watch my mother judge some poor commoner.”

“Aww, Jens is just too soft.” Moyo poked his knee.

Jens rolled his eyes.

“Well, at least you don’t have to travel around in a carriage on an empty stomach to get here,” Aaron said, finally leaning forward to cast his gaze over the feast they’d brought with them.

Robbe huffed, amused, and settled back alongside Jens. “You can take your fill now. All of this is for the two of you. Jens and I already ate.”

“What?” Moyo blinked at them, then stared at the food, then at Aaron. “It’s just for you, then. I actually got up in time and already had my breakfast, too.”

Aaron’s eyes widened as he glanced between all of them and then back at the cart. He let out a long breath and patted his stomach. “Alright. We can do it.”

Jens snorted as Robbe burst into giggles and Moyo simply shook his head. Jens enjoyed these moments more than anything else, the ridiculous ones with his group of friends in which he could just be himself. He didn’t have to be polite or polished or princely. He didn’t have to be anything. He could just laugh without anyone looking at him in awe or judgment.

He really didn’t have to worry about these three being in awe of him.

Moyo turned to him with a wrinkled brow, breaching the gap between them to poke him in the stomach. “It’s probably a good thing you’re opting out, you’re getting a little soft there.”

Jens batted him away. “So what if I am?”

“Don’t they have you on some strict, fancy diet and a training regime? Thought they didn’t want a pudgy Prince.”

Jens crossed his arms over his stomach and scowled.

Robbe made a small noise of protest next to him. “Jens would be basically skin and bones by your standards. I’d rather see him soften up than fade away.” He nudged Jens teasingly, but gave Moyo another pointed look.

Moyo’s expression gentled. “He knows I’m kidding. I just think it’s crazy, some of the expectations like that they have of you. I couldn’t be a knight, either.”

“Sander loves being a knight,” Robbe pointed out.

“Doesn’t Sander just love everything, though?” Aaron asked. He had a smear on his chin from some sort of sauce, even though Jens couldn’t spot any amidst the array of food.

“He loves being a pain in my ass,” Jens muttered. Sander Driesen was a nuisance more than a knight, a member of his personal guard, and one of his best friends. He was the same age as Senne, just two years older than the group of them, and still he appeared younger. Jens could speak about (tease) Sander in a manner that didn’t feel quite as appropriate with Senne.

“Maybe,” Robbe acquiesced, grinning over at him. “But at least you know it’s with love.”

“Well, who doesn’t love our dear Royal Highness,” Moyo teased.

Aaron took another chunk of food. “And his royal heinie.”

Robbe choked on his breath. Moyo, however, immediately started cackling, and Aaron joined in once Jens flipped them off. Eventually, Robbe’s giggles joined the fray, and this was eventually what roped Jens into letting out a quiet laugh of his own. They were too much, sometimes, but he thought he quite liked it that way.

The door burst open once more to permit a fluffy cloud of white hair. Sander poked his head in and raised his brows at all of them, lips twitching slightly in response to their laughter. Jens gave him a little wave and he strode into the room, still fully decked out in his chainmail with a navy cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

“Ahh, there he is,” Moyo grinned. “The skinniest knight in the land.”

Sander pulled a face and flipped him off. “I can be skinny and still know how to skin you.”

Moyo’s brows rose, but he quietened, sinking back in his seat with raised hands.

“I’m guessing you’ve come to whisk me away?” Jens sighed.

“Afraid so. I’ve been waiting all morning to come sweep you off your feet,” Sander said, hand placed mockingly over his heart as he smirked. “I almost challenged Senne to a duel to get to your chambers.”

Jens rolled his eyes skyward.

Robbe giggled, and Sander narrowed in on him and finally softened, as he usually did. It was little secret that most of the fellow castle members favoured Robbe, and that Sander in particular had a soft spot for his doe eyes. Robbe was the reason he was here, after all.

Sander rounded the food trolley and sat on the arm of the sofa next to Robbe, ruffling a hand through his curls. Robbe would have smacked any of them away, but he leaned into Sander like a cat. “I hope you’re not letting these ones corrupt you.”

“You’re hardly a stellar role model yourself,” Robbe drawled, gently teasing.

The hand Sander placed over his heart seemed slightly less mocking, but his pout twitched towards a smirk. “You wound me, dear Robin.”

“They don’t need me immediately, do they?” Jens attempted to draw Sander’s attention back.

Sander shrugged. “I was told to fetch you so you could be properly dressed,” he announced, overly amused.

Jens groaned and slumped down in his seat as Moyo laughed again.

|*~^~*|

Ow. Cinched too tight around the waist. Again. Cutting into his throat. He let out a slight grunt and the maid handling his ties and buttons mumbled an apology, still avoiding his eyes.

“It’s alright,” Jens reassured her. He thought her name might be Lisa, but he wasn’t sure, and he refused to use it only to be wrong. “It’s not you, just these clothes. I don’t see the need for them, in any case. Do you?”

Lisa paused for a moment and considered him, actually thinking through her answer. “I think they’re nice, Sire.”

Jens blinked. She was complimenting him, he thought, but she was also disagreeing with him. Not to a large extent, of course, and the good certainly outweighed the bad, but that didn’t make it any less unusual. Most of the servants just smiled and nodded and furtively agreed with anything he said. Robbe and the boys were different, as well as some of his knights, but outside that small circle, Jens rarely garnered any honest conversation or genuine opinions. It was refreshing.

“They do look quite uncomfortable, though,” she commented, and he deflated slightly. “But at least it’s not a dress. The Princesses take a lot longer.”

This startled a pleased laugh out of Jens. “I can imagine. What with Lotte being barely twelve and Lies being so demanding.”

“I wish that Lotte was going to remain that age and never require any awkward clothing,” Lisa admitted, turning away to run her hand over Jens’s heavy cloak. She looked back at him curiously. “It’s a while yet to the meeting. Would you rather wait to wear this?”

Jens waved her off. “Sure. I’ll manage it myself, I’m sure. Thank you.”

Lisa offered a small bow, as well as the hint of a smile when Jens grinned at her. She took her leave without any further fuss and let the heavy door fall shut behind her, leaving Jens once again alone in his silent chambers. He almost wished Sander had stuck around, but Sander had been starving and Jens was the one who told him to go and find himself an early lunch. He wished he could have spent more time with the boys, as well, considering now he would simply have to wait—just in a bit more discomfort than before.

He cast a glance at himself in the mirror. At least, he thought, he was still wearing red. The padded jacket hung low on his wrists and was clasped with a belt at the waist, with the collar obscuring most of his throat. It was well fitting and of a soft material and really, it wouldn’t be so bad if he was more used to it. It just felt a little too restraining. Had he actually put on a little weight?

He tugged at the collar, skin underneath beginning to itch uncomfortably. Eventually he gave in and unbuttoned the top of the garment, taking a deep breath and finally swallowing without feeling like he was being choked. He didn’t think it looked any worse, or less professional, but then again he was never the best judge. He’d once tried to convince his mother that their family taking up a more casual style would only earn them more respect from their people, and help put them all on the same level. She had disagreed.

His door opened without any forewarning, which meant it had to be a member of his family. He turned around to see Lotte racing towards his bed, throwing herself on it amidst his protests. Her giggle floated out into the room and Jens groaned slightly, but the roll of his eyes was fond. He glanced back at the mirror and checked himself over once more, fiddling with that top button, before he let his hands drop and turned to his youngest sister.

“What are you doing in here? You know there’s a meeting soon,” he berated, only to huff in amusement when she narrowed her eyes at him. “I won’t be able to spend much time with you.”

She considered him for another moment, then simply shrugged. “I know. But I’m bored. I like whatever time I get.”

Jens softened. He knew that, in some ways, it was even harder for Lotte than it was for him. He had Robbe and the boys, and Senne and Sander, who were not only his people and his guard but his friends. Many of the people who worked in the castle were his age or thereabouts.

Lotte didn’t have the same luxury.

He went to join her on the bed, ignoring the alarms in his head warning him of creased clothes as he flopped down beside her. “Okay.” He smiled over at her and gave her a nudge. “I always have time for you.”

The girl returned his smile, but it quickly faltered. “Unlike Lies,” she muttered, picking mournfully at her fingernails.

Jens grasped her small hands in one of his to stop the motion. “She doesn’t mean to brush you off, you know. She is just busy, too.”

“Not as busy as you and you make an exception.”

He supposed this was a fair point. He also supposed sisters of twelve and twenty might not have all that much in common, but they were a special case. The three of them had almost everything in common. “Have you really tried to get her to spend time with you?”

Lotte hesitated. “Not really.”

“Would you like me to mention something to her?”

“No, that’s embarrassing.”

“It won’t be. I’ll be subtle.”

“But you’re awful at that, Jens.”

“Excuse me?” Jens sat up, affronted. “I am excellent at subtlety. It’s a big part of my job.”

Lotte seemed dubious. “How? You don’t actually do much.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean with the people,” Lotte specified, blushing slightly even as she tried and failed to hide her amusement. “You don’t get many opportunities to practice subtlety. Neither do I.”

“Clearly,” Jens quipped.

Another giggle erupted, and Jens couldn’t fight back his smile. He had his friends and his family. Lotte had always looked up to him and he had always adored her—they were as close as a brother and sister eight years apart in age could be. He and Lies were close, too, though they were also, obviously, much closer in age and more likely to match up to each other’s taunts. But Lies had always been Lotte’s favourite. The two had been thick as thieves almost since Lotte’s birth, but recently Lies had been sucked into her own position in the castle. She wasn’t subject to as much nonsense as Jens, but she had her own fair share of business and responsibilities. She had also simply grown up.

But Lotte was still growing up with them, and Jens wouldn’t just let her be left behind.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m subtle,” he said. “Lies will make an effort if she knows you miss her. You know how much she loves you.”

Lotte hugged one of his many pillows against her chest and didn’t look at him. “It’s different now, though.”

“No. You’re our sister and that will never change. Okay?”

Before Lotte could respond, a harsh rap on the door interrupted their moment. Jens closed his eyes briefly, already guessing who it was. The door swinging up with no further warning confirmed his assumption.

“Well, now you’re just being difficult,” Sander said, exasperated. “I did not drag you back here early so you could get some more sleep.”

Jens groaned and tugged the pillow out of Lotte’s grasp to cover his own face with it.

Lotte giggled, and Sander finally took notice of her. His lips instantly split in a smile, and he took a deep bow, which only made Lotte’s laughter louder. “Pardon me, Princess. I hope you know I never intended to lay on you the same disgrace as your brother.”

“Of course not,” Lotte said, ever at ease as she bounded over Jens and towards Sander, letting him place the usual kiss on her hand. “You’re only doing your job right, and I am sure he deserves it.”

“I thought,” Jens interrupted loudly, “that we were supposed to stick together. I am only here because of you in the first place, but I see you’re not yet old enough to know better than to fall for his charm.”

Lotte stuck her tongue out at him, which might have proved his point. “You are just jealous Sander is better at it than you. Enjoy your meeting.” She gave him a wave and a smile before slipping away, and Jens watched after her, hoping above everything that she wouldn’t get old enough too quickly.

Sander also smiled fondly after her, but grew stern once he returned to Jens’s gaze. He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “Your mother is going to have me in the stocks one of these days, and then I will teach you how that works in our next training session.”

Jens snorted. “I would like to see you try.”

|*~^~*|

He hated sitting in for Court. It was less about the ‘criminals’ and more about the royals, the endless lines of knights and Lords and servants, eager to witness another fool. He didn’t care much for fools, but he cared even less to laugh at them. It soothed him only slightly that Sander and Senne were visible near the front of the room.

He cared least for his formal attire. He was overheating in his jacket, once again delicately buttoned up to the throat, the collar digging into his skin. He’d tried leaving the top hanging open, and it had hardly taken a second for his mother to give him a sharp glance, nodding to a maid that had hastily run to button it back up. He was left to sit and suffocate.

His mother was seated next to him, as regal as ever in her throne. Her fitted dress was a deep burgundy, multiple shades darker than her son’s jacket, and her hair was pinned up neatly with her crown placed carefully atop it. She hadn’t paid attention to Jens, bar the instance with the clothing ‘mishap’. Instead she was talking quietly to Senne’s father, who also happened to be the head knight, or Commander. Jens didn’t know him well, and the man never seemed to give him much thought. Which was fair, he supposed, as he was obviously of less importance, and the position and size—a little behind and a lot smaller—of his own throne in comparison to his mother’s was a good reminder. This meant he was left alone as they waited for whatever poor soul was being charged to make their way to the throne.

For some reason, he wasn’t expecting the poor soul to be a boy roughly his age with scruffy hair and striking blue eyes set in a delicate face.

Jens straightened subtly in his chair, placed to the right side of his mother’s throne, and met the boy’s eyes for half a second.

His mother ordered a sharp, “Kneel.”

Before the boy could comply, one of the guards that had escorted him set a heavy hand on his shoulder and forced him down, making him land on the stone floor in a manner that left Jens’s own knees aching in sympathy. The boy simply caught his breath and held his chin high, looking straight at them and through, his jaw clenched.

Jens drummed his fingers on his knee in interest.

The same guard gave the boy’s head a forceful shove. Jens thought he might have been one of the Berg children, though of the four brothers there were in that family, he couldn’t distinguish this one. He could see, however, that the guard must have been twice the boy’s size in bulk. “Speak your name to the Court.”

The boy took a breath as some of his masqueraded confidence slipped. “Lucas. Lucas van der Heijden.”

Jens licked his lips, cataloguing the sound of his voice, the way his mouth parted for an instant before the actual sound escaped. The name rumbled deeply around the room and seeped into the walls, encased in the brick in case it would otherwise be lost.

Jens’s job was to watch, to note, and to only give judgement if asked. It often didn’t take him long to form conclusions. His conclusion of Lucas van der Heijden was that he seemed, at once, nothing and everything like a criminal.

He was young, and clean cut, though his clothes were a tad too tight and an inch too short on his ankles, fraying at the hems. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, a familiar sandy mixture that Jens had seen on all hostages of the castle cells. It was impossible to tell how long he had been kept in them—Jens was rarely offered such information. There was an innocence to his youth but a confidence in his posture. His eyes held a pleading light and a resolute film. Whatever his crime in regards to the crown, he held a loyalty to someone.

“State his crimes,” the Queen requested. She had abandoned any attention towards the Commander, though he remained by her side. She was looking at the boy with a cool intent that surprised Jens.

The opposite guard, whom Jens failed to recall a name for, stared straight ahead as he spoke up. “Thievery and dishonor to the Court, Your Majesty.”

Jens could barely hold back a snort. He relaxed slightly. There was rarely a severe punishment for a loaf of bread. The scene before him suddenly made more sense.

His mother’s tone, however, was unusually steely. “Thievery of what?”

“Sir Viktor’s sword, Your Majesty.”

Jens blinked. A rumble of interest spread through the Court. That was something of a surprise. Jens was suddenly paying more attention.

Lucas’s jaw tightened and he gave a minuscule shake of his head, so much so that Jens was sure he was the only one to notice.

The Queen didn’t seem quite as intrigued, which meant she had already known. “And what, boy, do you want with a sword?”

“I didn’t steal it.” Lucas spoke through gritted teeth, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve never even seen the sword before.”

“It was found under his bed, Your Majesty, free of its sheath. Sir Viktor had been missing it for a full day before organising a search.”

Jens barely resisted rolling his eyes. If Viktor had been missing it that long, he was almost in need of a punishment himself. He’d known Viktor Deruwe, Senne’s brother, for only over a year, becoming acquainted with him long after he’d already met Senne. Senne’s loyalty and honour, that Jens had become easily familiar with during the man’s service in his personal guard, did not seem to emanate as clearly from his brother. Jens had received only a few pleasures of his presence, and pinned his discomfort down to this unfamiliarity. As he watched Lucas’s expression tighten further, however, there was something that didn’t sit quite right with him.

The feeling only strengthened as the Queen raised her head and stared Lucas down. “You’d do best to not add dishonesty to your list, Mr van der Heijden. The proof sits against you. If you claim not to have stolen it, how do you suppose it ended up with you?”

Lucas swallowed. For a tiny second, his gaze flitted over to the crowd on his left. Jens followed his gaze and found nothing that stood out, other than his own friends. Senne was watching Lucas intently, and with mild surprise, though he did not appear angered on his brother’s behalf. Sander was flicking cautious glances at him anyway.

“I didn’t steal anything,” Lucas repeated. “I’m an artist. I have no reason for a sword.”

“And yet,” the Queen said lightly, “there was one so close to you. Are you able to explain that?”

Jens came to the realisation too late, after noticing the hard lines of his mother’s frown and the steel underlining the easiness of her voice. This wasn’t a trial—this was merely the sentencing.

“Someone else must have placed it there,” Lucas said, just as light, with just as much steel underneath.

“I’m sorry, Mr van der Heijden, truly, but the evidence against you is not something I can simply dismiss as a wrong guess. Do you have proof, of anyone else who may have had access to your quarters? Even so much as a theory.”

“It’s not hard,” Lucas laughed slightly, “to access my quarters. From the way your guards stormed my home yesterday without so much as a knock as a notice, that seems fairly clear.”

Jens raised his brows as the Queen lowered hers. “You’d do well not to speak out of turn, boy. Evidently, my guards had every right to rip your home to shreds if they so pleased.”

Jens looked at her in surprise. He knew his mother held a firm and stern rule, but she had never shown herself to be cruel. Jens would never have expected her to so openly disregard the rights and welfare of her people. He supposed Lucas was good at pushing buttons, and he’d somehow managed to hit a number of her’s throughout their short interaction. Jens glanced over Lucas again, his curls scattered and shoulders straight, and felt a stab of worry in his stomach.

Help yourself, Jens silently urged. Try to win her over. Don’t make it worse.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Lucas seemed to force the words out, dragging them from himself as if he was being made to pull his own teeth. “My mother—I take care of her. I worried that she would have been harmed in the fray.”

Jens watched his own mother soften slightly before regaining her resolve. “While that’s admirable of you, it doesn’t truly explain your resistance. Your lies, Mr van der Heijden, may only lead to further searches of your home in an attempt to confirm either your guilt or your innocence. Would you not, in that case, rather save your mother the trouble?”

Jens swiveled his gaze back to Lucas, watching the low blow hit, cataloguing the way the boy’s own resolve crumbled.

Then he straightened, undeterred by the hand still tightly clasped on his shoulder. “My mother has no involvement, because neither do I. I’m not lying. I stole nothing.”

The Queen regarded him for another long moment, as did Jens. Then she released a heavy sigh. “I was hoping that your cooperation would provide an option for leniency. A true explanation may have lightened your sentence, but the proof against you is overwhelming.”

Jens’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t quite sure he agreed, but he was only meant to give his opinion if he was asked. He didn’t think his mother much cared what he thought, most times, but especially now.

“I cannot believe that you are free of intent to threaten the crown, due to the unusual action of your crime. I fear I have no choice.” She stood from her throne and stepped down from the dais, looming over Lucas in her heavy red robes and shimmering crown. “Lucas van der Heijden, for the charges of thievery and dishonor to the throne, I find you guilty and sentence you to death.”

The murmur this time was of a much more extensive volume, but it wasn’t quite enough to drown out Jens’s incredulous burst of laughter.

All eyes turned to him, and he felt his shoulders stiffen. Lucas’s gaze was most prominent, evidently confused, with eyes wide and disbelieving. His mother’s were equally surprised, though underlaid with anger.

Definitely not supposed to be voicing his opinion today, then.

Jens did his best to ignore his discomfort under the attention and keep a princely smile on his face. “Since when do we sentence death without proof? Now you wish it upon one of your younger subjects for the kidnapping of a sword that wasn’t even put to use?”

The murmur that he’d silenced picked up again, and his mother raised an unimpressed brow at him. “The proof has been presented to you as it has been presented to me. Are you aware of evidence we are not?”

“I’m aware that there is a possibility, however slim, that he is telling the truth. Even if he had stolen it and intended to put it to use, the sword has been retrieved. He presents no real immediate threat. If anything, I believe he would have committed the crime as a scared boy with family he wishes to protect. Surely that is something any of us can understand. He may be deserving of punishment, yes, but death?”

The room had fallen into utter silence. Jens didn’t dare look at any of the Court members, but he chanced a glance at Lucas. The other boy was staring back at him, with all surprise now wiped from his face. He wore a carefully constructed blank expression, that didn’t break as Jens looked back at him.

Jens didn’t know why he felt such a strong urge to save him. But now that he’d started, he couldn’t bring his own argument to an end.

“So what else do you suggest?” His mother asked this at length, unwillingly.

He shouldn’t have spoken out. It wasn’t his place. It wasn’t good for her, he knew, to have her rule questioned in public by her own son. But he’d argued without thinking, looking at Lucas and feeling an inexplicable need to stand up for him. To protect.

“It’s his loyalty in question, is it not?” Jens raised a brow and waited for her nod. “So let him prove it. I’m sure someone youthful and strong could have a place serving the Court.”

The murmur picked up again. Jens resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he skipped over all the incredulous looks to find his friends, and was assured to have Sander and Senne watching on with surprise but approval. Sander cocked a brow at him, as if impressed, while Senne merely nodded his encouragement.

His mother stared at him. “Your suggestion is to allow him a position in the castle?”

“He couldn’t be placed under more watch,” Jens said simply. “I would rather test someone’s loyalty and perhaps gain a better bond than let a life go to waste.”

This murmur sounded somewhat agreeable, though it was silenced the second the Queen raised her hand. “There are no positions in the Court up for offer, and I cannot possibly gift a thief the sword he’d stolen.”

Jens didn’t even pause to think. “I don’t have a personal servant.”

There was, surprisingly, no murmur. The room was eerily quiet as Jens and his mother stared each other down and Lucas flitted his gaze between them.

It was not a lie, and was perhaps even the reason he had been doing this. He was tired of fussy maids lacing his shirts and buttoning his coats and buckling his cuffs. His sisters both had maid-servants, while Jens was left with an array of strangers carrying out various duties, never even able to become familiar with faces as they avoided contact and conversation at all costs. He did his best to be amicable with the castle staff, to form relationships, to form bonds. But aside from the few close friends he saw only on occasion (and even they were sons of various Lords in various agreements with his mother), and a few chosen guards, Jens spent most of his time alone.

He wouldn’t have minded someone like Lucas by his side. Someone his age, who wasn’t afraid to look him in the eye.

“You wish to risk letting a criminal become your personal servant? You would trust him to be so close to you?”

Jens let his mother stare disapprovingly at him before shifting his gaze to Lucas. They considered each other, concrete met with intrigue, before Jens gave a simple shrug. “I would.” He saw Lucas shake his head slightly in disbelief, and only became more sure. He turned back to his mother and kept his expression and tone firm. “It’s my risk to take, and I believe there isn’t much risk to it. If I am wrong, then I should get what’s coming to me.”

A few of the guards gave a quiet titter in acceptance, and he watched as his mother looked at a spot in the crowd for a lengthy moment.

Then she was nodding her acceptance.

She looked down upon Lucas. “Very well. You will have a guard assigned to you that will accompany you on any outings, alone or with the Prince. While you are in his service, there will be guards stationed at his door and extra security provided throughout the castle. It is only as a sign of trust towards my son that you are being given leniency. You should be grateful to him that you are leaving here with your life.” She looked to the guard on his left, the one that had spoken calmly to them without laying a finger on Lucas. “Take him and remain with him until the new measures I eventually decide upon are fully put in place.” She then turned to the room at large and raised her voice to address them all. “You are dismissed.”

Lucas listened to her silently, and remained wordless as Berg yanked him to his feet. Jens watched on until his mother spoke up again.

“Jens, you are to accompany him now. If he is not to be trusted from the beginning then he is not to be trusted without his apparent savior. You are also dismissed,” she said. “Though you will be meeting me again later to discuss this decision further.”

Jens bit back a sigh and rose to his feet. The intrigue spiraling up in him was quickly turning to elation. He felt that he had been entirely right to speak up and to continue to stand his ground, and it was a thrilling realisation that he could. It had even been easy, to earn the support of his mother and the Court, in what at first seemed to be an unshakable stance.

As he made his way down the dais and met Lucas’s stony gaze, however, he considered that it may not be as simple as he thought.

[labelleofbelfastcity]

hold my hand, it’s a long way down

1.5k, high fantasy royalty au, most of the details of which were provided by @capybart

read on ao3 here

Kalina smirks as she glides into the room, black furs gleaming around her shoulders and long train hissing across the floor. Riz, reflexively, takes a step back, as his eyes clock the false crown atop her head, the feline smile curving her mouth, and the knife in her hand, flickering in the candlelight.

“I trust you’re doing well,” she says, and keeps approaching until she’s standing right before him, staring him down.

Riz’s heart jumps a beat and his eyes dart around, trying to see where he can go, what he can grab, if it is even likely to move at all before that knife is sliding into his neck and tearing an ugly gash in his throat. “Not with any thanks to you.”

Kalina huffs, mouth quirking to the side, before she slumps down to sit on his bed, shoulders falling and head tilting to look at him. The black gem in the center of her diadem seems to dance like cold fire, drawing Riz’s eyes to it even as he tries to focus on a million and one other things. Unnatural, Riz thinks, with a sickening shock directly to his heart. And then he remembers the things people have always whispered about Kalina, words like witch and sorceress and Shadow Cat. Remembers those words and sees the way her eyes flash yellow in the candle’s flame.

“I’m disappointed in you, kiddo. I thought you’d figure out by now that this is all for you.”

“Where’s my mom?” Riz spits out, as he has done every time Kalina visits him in these much too fancy rooms, this much too fancy prison.

Kalina rolls her eyes, leans back on one arm, flips the dagger in her other hand, “Thought we got past that already.”

“I know you did something to her.”

“I didn’t do anything. Besides, she’s safe. She’s comfortable. What more could you ask of me?”

“I want you to give her back.”

“And I thought it was you, kiddo, who told me not too long ago that people weren’t toys. That they couldn’t be given and taken. Hm. Must be wrong about that.” Kalina flicks the tip of the dagger at him, holding it just a few inches away from Riz’s ribs, where she could slide it straight up and into his heart. “That’s not what I came here for, though. How’s the prince doing?”

“Aren’t you at court with him?” Riz spits out, and refuses to yield yet another step.

“Yes, yes. And he’s doing so well today, too. I’ve never seen a more attentive courter, practically glued to the Lady Aelwyn’s side. Which is funny, seeing as how we had to drag him from his rooms less than a week ago.”

“Fabian’s not planning anything,” Riz says, leaving out the because I am.

Kalina huffs, and taps the dagger against her own cheek, “I don’t know when you’ll learn. Everything you know, I know. I’m in your head, kiddo.”

Riz’s spine snaps straight as a scream he knows doesn’t exist sounds from his left, and then his right, screams that sounds like Fig and Fabian. Screams he only knows because of that day, weeks ago, when the Abernants and their holy warriors in gleaming sun-forged metal took the castle and forced the prince, Riz’s friend, the person Riz was supposed to protect above all else, to stab his father in the heart. Fig had screamed then, in rage, and tried to take the nearest knight out with a swing of her lute, and Fabian had screamed later, when the three of them were back in these rooms, in that soft, silent way of tears and grief and heartache and complete and total betrayal.

“See? That’s what you don’t understand,” Kalina says, standing once again. “That’s what I’m saving you from. I’m protecting your little friends because you’re useful to me. You don’t want to stop being useful to me, do you?”

Riz remains where he is, fighting back the nausea as the screams grow. Now, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, rooted to the spot by a clawed hand holding tightly onto his mind.

“Do you?” Kalina asks again, and this time she brings the knife up to Riz’s jaw, just under his ear. The cold pricks against his skin and Riz is so afraid.

“No,” he rasps out, and she smiles again, eyes crinkling. The screams immediately stop.

“Good.” The heavy handle of the knife drops into Riz’s hand, and his fingers close over it reflexively. It’s dangerous, to give your enemy a weapon. Dangerous, still, to give them a weapon they have no hope to use in any way that counts. “You can’t get away from me, bud. Just remember that.”

Riz snarls at her, “We’re going to stop you.”

Kalina clucks her tongue and begins to walk away, “The only way you’ll escape is if I want you to.”

The door swings shut behind her right as her hold over Riz’s body drops, and he sags a little, before startling upright again. She must know, there’s no way she doesn’t. Her knowing had not been a factor of the plan, despite everything pointing towards its likelihood. Really, how could Riz have been so stupid? He’ll need a few minutes to change things, modify them so that they can actually escape, can actually get out of here.

Fabian is trapped in this castle. Fig is trapped. Their new ally, the oracle Adaine Abernant, their friend, is trapped as well. He can’t risk their freedom for himself, can’t risk Fabian and Fig’s sacrifices and the dangerous line between family and safety Adaine is flirting with. He just… he’ll figure out another way. He just needs time.

The heavy sound of a wooden lute being swung against a head thunks from outside Riz’s door, and then it’s opening to reveal his friends standing on the threshold. No, no, no, this is happening too fast. He hasn’t had time to plan.

Fig lowers her lute from where it’s raised in the air, hovering around where the now unconscious guard’s head probably was less than a second ago.

“Shit, Riz, we need to go,” Adaine says, hoisting her skirts and sprinting for his window, the same window Riz had been preparing before Kalina waltzed in.

Fabian twirls his red, embroidered, very much not stealthy court cloak from his shoulders, slinging on the black one he’d stashed on Riz’s chair earlier. The cloak that Kalina had most certainly seen because Riz hadn’t bothered to hide it. “We have five minutes.”

Adaine throws the window open and immediately heaves one of her legs out of it, hair whipping slightly in the breeze. She reaches behind her and grabs Fig’s hand, pulling her up and onto the windowsill beside her.

They’ve discussed this plan ad nauseum for weeks. So it’s almost too easy for Adaine and Fig to leap from the window with nothing but a nod, not even noticing how Riz has yet to move from his spot.

“Alright, we’re next, The Ball,” Fabian says, and hoists himself up onto the windowsill, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders in preparation for the leap.

Riz moves, then, takes a step back, hands outstretched in a pleading way that doesn’t connect with the usual brave, cunning parts of himself, the parts that plan a castle escape and wind up as companion to the prince. “You can’t take me with you. Kalina, she’s— She’s in my head. She knows, Fabian. I can’t risk it.”

Fabian’s mouth tugs and he leans back into the room, grabbing one of Riz’s outstretched hands and tugging him forward, to the open window, to their one chance at escape. “I didn’t leave you behind before, I’m not about to start now.”

And Riz remembers, remembers the way he and Fig had fought tooth and nail during those first moments of the coup, before the King had fallen at his son’s hand. They’d bought Fabian a second of time, a moment to run, but he’d frozen, frozen as the knights grappled Fig and Riz, frozen with his sword hanging in the air, the wound on his face a bleeding mess.

“Go, Fabian,” Riz had screamed, Fig shouting as well.

Fabian’s sword clattered out of his hand, and he allowed himself to be grabbed by the knight who cut out his eye, to be dragged alongside Riz and Fig to that throne room, to where Kalina and the Abernants waited with King Bill Seacaster slowly bleeding out on his own steps.

“I couldn’t leave you, The Ball. I couldn’t lose you.” Fabian had said that night, once the tears were dry and Fig snored beside them.

“You won’t. We’re going to get through this together,” Riz had said and curled up tightly into Fabian’s side.

The memory flashes in Riz’s head, and then it’s gone, and Riz is back in his night dark room, wind from the open window brushing against his cheeks, and Fabian’s warm hand wrapped around his, pleading, in his own way, for him to follow.

Riz holds tight to the dagger Kalina had given him, the dagger he plans to hurl straight into her heart someday, and allows himself to be pulled out of the window.

[d-andilion]

too late

febuwhump day 3: (alt. 5) hostage situation 

(geraskier, established relationship, canon-typical violence, 747, ao3 link in notes)

It was a nice day. The sun was shining and a warm breeze blew through the air, bringing the scent of freshly bloomed flowers with it. Every now and again as they walked, a flash caught Geralt’s eye, sunlight reflecting off the river far below their feet. 

He wouldn’t have walked so close to the cliffside on his own, but Jaskier had insisted. Apparently, the view was too beautiful to miss on such a lovely day. Geralt didn’t mind it though, he could admit that Jaskier had a point. He didn’t even have his armor on, deciding instead to enjoy the air unobstructed.

It was peaceful, too. Not silent, of course. Even without birds singing in the trees or insects buzzing unseen, silence was something Geralt’d given up on years ago. He’d grown used to Jaskier’s voice in the background of everything, chattering idly about whatever struck his fancy. Even learned to like it. Quite well as of late.

Geralt looked over at him, smiling in the sunlight, and thought in the privacy of his mind how perfectly suited Jaskier’s face was for smiling. He would tease Geralt mercilessly if he could hear it. He never would, of course, words of admiration didn’t come as naturally to Geralt. He had other ways.

But there would be time for that later. They weren’t far now from town and with it a hot supper and a warm bed. A bath too if Jaskier played well, and he always played well. Geralt thought about staying a few days if they had the coin. Eat well, drink deep, get rest and… not.

If he hadn’t been so concerned with daydreaming, perhaps he would have heard them coming. 

He should have, from the first rustle in the bushes, if he hadn’t been distracted. Watching the hills roll in the distance and listening to Jaskier hum a new melody instead of their surroundings. Geralt didn’t notice the signs, not until the wind turned and the scent of blood and sweat filled his nose. By then, it was too late.

Geralt stopped in his tracks, grabbing Jaskier by the back of his shirt as he went. He opened his mouth to speak, but Geralt shushed him harshly. Jaskier’s smile disappeared. Geralt listened. They were just beyond the tree line, a dozen at least, maybe more. 

It was too late to run. Geralt didn’t even have his swords strapped on, fucking fool that he was, letting his guard down as if a nice day would protect them. The time he wasted groping for them was all the band needed to surround them on three sides, four at each flank and five ahead.

“Geralt”, said Jaskier, turning to him like always did, to protect him like he should have done.

There were too many, too many to fight with Jaskier crushed against his back. And these were no common thieves or highwaymen, these were trained mercenaries, armed and armored to the teeth. Cornered against the cliff, their only hope was if Geralt could cut a hole in their line and escape into the woods.

“Stay low,” Geralt warned, yanking a dagger from his hip and lodging it just above the collar bone of the first brave fucker to step forward.

They weren’t fool enough to rush him all at once, coming at him in pairs. He felled three and had a fourth on his knees when he heard it. A scream, loud and shrill and terrified.

A gruff shout, “Stop!”

Geralt turned. Froze. 

Jaskier had a knife at his throat and a mercenary at his back, snarling over his shoulder. A single red drop disappeared beneath his shirt collar, staining the cream fabric. Geralt could see his chest heaving, hear his faint whimper as the mercenary jerked them back. They stood barely two paces from the cliff’s edge.

“Drop the sword,” the mercenary spat, bearing his yellowed teeth. “Drop it, or he dies!”

The others closed in and faltered when Geralt snarled. These men hadn’t come to take him alive. If he dropped his weapon, they’d kill them both for certain. He had to give them a fighting chance, he had to-

Then Jaskier smiled, a trembling curve of his lips. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Forgive me, darling,” he said. 

By the time Geralt realized, before he could even wonder what that fool was thinking, it was happening. He couldn’t stop him. Too late. Jaskier pushed off.

The mercenary screamed the whole way down.

~

more from febuwhump

[daydream-believin]

A Nice Rock For You, My Love (Please Accept)

Summary: Douxie would like to give the reader a special present.

Warnings: Swearing, stabbing, blood, swords and a knife.

Word Count: 3092 -ten pages 12 point times new roman, baby!

A/N: even i couldn’t predict where the hell this was headed. have fun with this. i sure did ;)

Douxie placed his newest rock onto the window ceil in his bedroom. He’d display it for a while, but add it to the collection jar with the others once it was replaced. Every morning he’s wake up, see the shiny stone on his window ceil, and think of his wonderful significant other.

Y/n was an odd duck, but an endearing one at that. They spent most of their time out in the local forest. Douxie wasn’t sure what they did out there for so long each day, but that didn’t matter as long as they’d come back to see him in the evenings. They’d return to civilization every night scruffy, smelly, and with twigs stuck in their hair, but he thought they looked lovely. Enchanting even. A little dirt never did hurt anyone.

He was going to have to get a new jar soon. Every week or so, Y/n would present him with a new one. A token of their affection for the wizard. He kept every single one. He kept one in the pocket of his favourite jacket. Y/n had found that particular one in the flat of a creek bed. They were drawn in by the bright blue color, reminding them of their beloved wizard’s most recent dye job. After fishing it out, it turned out to be a piece of beach glass, but it was very smooth and rounded. Douxie was using it as a worry stone.

Of course, rocks weren’t the only thing Y/n had brought him. Any small thing not tied down the forest could offer was up for grabs to the local cryptid. Sometimes they’d leave him feathers from a bird they swore they got permission from to take. Sometimes they’d give him sticks they carved intricate designs into. Sometimes bones. A lot of times bones. Not enough bones for visitors in his home to question though. They just assumed he was really goth. One time, Y/n even straight up gifted him a jar of mud. Well, it supposed to be soil from the picnicking spot they often spent their dates, some water from the nearby stream, with a few hand-plucked flower heads added to the top. Romantic, right? Unfortunately, it was accidentally shaken up between the time Y/N made it and the time they presented it to Doux. Still, it was proudly displayed on his shelf.

As tokens of affection began to collect, Doux decided he should return the favor. He’d find the perfect gift for his dear Y/n. One to show them just how much he cared, just how far his affection for them reached. Something to make that toothy smile light up their pretty face. Something to seal a promise to them, that he’d be by their side until the end of time.

So here he was, in this jewelry store, trying to find that perfect shiny rock for his significant other. It wasn’t going too well, to be honest. Everything was too fancy, and quite frankly, too expensive. It was like the whole store was polished and perfect. All those rings were beautiful, yes, but they looked like they belonged on the finger of a middle-class suburban spouse, not his wonderfully scruffy partner. His darling sasquatch. Too impersonal for his taste.

He’d decided that the only way to match Y/n’s energy was to find the stone himself. Luckily, he did live in Arcadia. Right below his feet were a system of caves that spanned at least a hundred miles. Surely the local trolls wouldn’t mind. Okay, so they did, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

After some exploring some of the tunnels for a while and getting a wee bit lost in the maze, he eventually came across a patch of purpley clusters growing from the cave wall. Amethysts, he guessed? Maybe fluorite. Either way, it was marvelous. The color was even close to that of Y/n’s magic. They put off a nice good energy too. This would be perfect. He just needed to find a small enough piece, or chip off a bit, and his quest would be complete. He magicked himself up a knife and set to work. It took him several tries, but eventually he wound up with a nice rock. It wasn’t perfect, even kind of lopsided for a ring, but it was a really good purple rock. Raw too. Uncut and unpolished, like them.

He brought it over to his work buddy Annie’s place. She had been really into jewelry making this year. Douxie had seen some of her work. It was top notch. She’d make him a nice personalized ring and set the stone into it. And he’d have the peace of mind knowing that this gift would be an excellent piece of craftsmanship. Hopefully Y/n wouldn’t lose it in the river. Thankfully, he had measured their ring size during their nap yesterday. So it would be nice and snug. Not drop-in-the-riverable at all… He’d enchant it.

Now all there was to do was wait. He had to give it to them at just the right moment for maximum romantic impact here. He’d watched a thousand proposal videos on youtube to get some semblance of an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. To be honest, a lot of them seemed kind of over the top and forced. While Doux was a showman, he didn’t want to go that route. This moment was going to be special. Intimate. Full of love.

He’d set up a lovely date for the occasion. A moonlight picnic in their favourite spot. Romantic, with candles. And roses. And champagne. He’d bring his acoustic too, to play for them. A classic serenade for his love. He also dressed up the trees around with some twinkly magical lights. He was thinking of making them a little show with magic lights too, to narrate their love story. After it was all over, they’d head over to the clearing to go star gazing. And they’d fall asleep under the stars in each other’s arms as a betrothed couple. Okay, so maybe he was going over the top after all. Just a tad. He couldn’t help it.

Once he got it all set up, he asked Archie to watch over it while he went to go get his darling. He even acquired a blindfold so he could get that maximum surprise effect. But he didn’t take into account the fact that nature isn’t exactly flat, and he had to help them carefully navigate the forest floor. At a certain point, he just decided to just pick Y/n up bridal style and carry them, eliciting a giggle from them. It was faster and easier for both parties. Also more romantic. A win-win. Y/n noticed his heart was beating pretty fast as they leaned against his chest. He was getting antsy as the spot came into view.

He was pleased and relieved to see that nothing had gone amiss so far. Everything was intact. Archie was just lazily snoozing on the blanket. Douxie cleared his throat to catch Arch’s attention and silently shooed him away with a head jerk. The dragon-cat nodded and took off towards town. Douxie placed Y/n down onto the blanket, oh so gently, taking their blindfold off to reveal everything. Y/n was, to Douxie’s dismay, immediately aware that something was up. This was quite the set up before them. They reacted nervously, which disheartened him slightly, but he couldn’t back out now. He wouldn’t back out now. He won’t.

He handed Y/n the bouquet of roses, and they flushed. That wonderful pink color of their cheeks somehow gave him enough courage to help him make it through his entire prepared speech without stuttering. What a feat. Despite their earlier wariness, Y/n was captivated. They hung off his every word. Douxie came to the conclusion that he must be using every drop of luck he had right now. Now for the best part, or the part that could embarrass him the most, depending on whether or not his luck continued. Time to woo his beloved with a special song he wrote just for them. Time to bear his soul. His fingers danced over the strings with practiced skill. The most beautiful melody Y/n had ever heard. They had stars in their eyes. He was halfway through his serenade when the heavens opened up.

Douxie almost instantly cast a magic shield over them. It was beautiful, in a way. The raindrops bucketing down, hitting the transparent glowing shield. It made a private percussion symphony just for them. Rain. Douxie saving the day. It was so cliché, they laughed together. Those freckles on his face danced adorably as he shook with laughter. So, in the spirit of clichés, Y/n decided to repay him for all his chivalry with a kiss. It caught him off guard at first, eyes wide, but he quickly melted into it.

As the kiss deepened, he pulled his fingers through their hair. They let out a moan into his mouth. He couldn’t help the lovesick grin that spread across his face. He turned his attention towards their neck. They tipped their head to give him better access, letting their hands travel down his back. He smelled smokey, he must have had some spell backfire on him today. How endearing. As Doux kissed right under their jaw, they opened their eyes just a half-lid. And then promptly snapped them open all the way. They briskly pulled back, eliciting a whine from Douxie.

“Uhhh, Doux,” He turned around to see what had frightened them.

“Oh fuzzbuckets,” he blinked at the sight, “is that a wolf?” Douxie exclaimed in disbelief.

“No, no, not a wolf. It can’t be a wolf. There’s exactly one singular wolf pack in Cali and its definitely not in fucking Arcadia Oaks.”

The wolf stepped forward. It was smaller than a normal wolf. A wolf-dog maybe. It snarled at them, spit dripping from its sharp teeth. They dared not move, and risk provoking it. Still as statues, Y/n and Douxie watched as it howled a warning to them. Or at least they thought it was a warning.

Suddenly, a very tall figure appeared through the trees. Black cloak billowing in the dark storm, it was if cooked up from some horror novel. Well, a children’s horror novel. It probably could have been much, much scarier. Especially to a couple of wizards that also frequently wore black and walked through the dark with their own less-than-domestic pets. But nevertheless, the sight raised the hackles on the backs of their necks. The wolf-dog ran to its master’s side. The figure patted his familiar’s scruffy head, then strode towards the picnic.

Douxie and Y/n swiftly sprang to their feet. Doux stepped in front of Y/n, to their annoyance. They could hold their own and Douxie knew it, but he couldn’t help those protective instincts. As the figure came closer, he dramatically tossed back his hood. Lightning struck at the very moment his bearded face was revealed to them. Completely by coincidence, honest.

“Eoin?” Douxie exclaimed in surprise. That expression of surprise then twisted into one of disgust. “Oh bleeding balroths, it’s fucking Eoin.” He half-shouted, half-grumbled.

“Aye, Hisirdoux! My old pal! How’ve you been, bruv?” Eoin flourished his cloak and smirked at the two. He eyed up Y/n. “And what a lovely partner you’ve got here, might I add.” Y/n shifted to be a bit more behind Doux.

“What do you want, my friend?” Douxie frustratedly asked. Y/n was getting the impression that, despite the terms of endearment here, these two were not friends.

“Why, don’t you already know, little Douxie? I’m here to settle something I should have long ago.” He said in a now less-than-friendly tone of voice.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Douxie was exasperated. Eoin just started coming closer. “Alright, mate,” Douxie raised his hands, flicking through his cuff, getting ready for what he knew was about to transpire without any more delay. His adversary shot up his hands to stop him.

“Oh! No, no, no! Friend, we’ll settle this like men. The old-fashioned way.”

Eoin summoned two rapiers out of thin air. Both some sort of gleaming black metal and glowing jewels. He kept the one with the red gems in his right hand, and tossed Douxie the one with the blue gems with his left. Color coordination, one supposes. Douxie tested the blade with a few swings and parries. His eyes looked down at the rapier and then to Eoin. They sort of bowed to each other.

They fenced back and forth deftly. It was like a dance. A tango. Y/n was impressed at how light footed Douxie actually was. Maybe he planned this? Was this a part of the show or something? It would be an excellent way to prove how capable he was of defending them from evil or whatever. But they got the feeling that this was undeniably real and not planned by, if not for the rancid aura hanging in the air, the absolutely murderous looks in the two men’s eyes.

The wolf-dog came towards Y/n. They readied a spell for defense, but the dog just, sort of sat next to them? It looked like it was also watching the fight intently. It would woof at the two whenever its master got the upper hand, almost as if cheering him on. Strange. A good boy, Y/n supposed. They’d reach down to pet it but they didn’t fancy losing their hand.

Eventually, Douxie came out on top. The duel had been nasty, but it now looked as if it was all but through. Douxie had Eoin knocked onto his back in the mud at the base of one of the massive old oak trees Arcadia was known for. He held his blade to Eoin’s throat, and they locked eyes. Douxie was huffing for air. But to Eoin’s surprise, He started apologizing. An entire speech. Confusion flashed on Eoin’s face. Hisirdoux had always felt guilty about his transgressions as a lad, about the people he trampled in order to survive before Merlin gave him a home. So he’d spare his old enemy. He was terribly sorry he’d begun this feud in the first place.

“And what say you, old buddy,” Douxie grinned hopefully with a glimmer in his hazel eyes. Douxie held out his hand in an offer of actual friendship. He stared into Eoin’s eyes. Eoin stared into his. Eoin’s shaky hand began to reach up to take Douxie’s. They clasped their hands together. Brothers. And for a moment, Douxie had really thought they had made up this time, looking into Eoin’s feeble smile. That is, until Eoin yanked Douxie down towards himself on the ground. Right into his ready, hungry blade.

To the soundtrack of Y/n’s screams, Eoin stood up, casually tossing Douxie’s limp body off his sword. The wind whipped his cloak as he stormed off, into the storm. The wolf-dog followed his master, howling in victory. Y/n was crossing the woods to cling to Doux in an instant.

He coughed up some blood, and intensely stared into Y/n’s eyes. He weakly took their hand, and caressed their cheek. Then remembered to reach into his pocket and pull out that special ring. He slipped it onto their slick, wet finger. Oh, it appeared that their hands were covered in blood. His blood. Neat.

“I- I wanted to a-” he coughed up some more blood, “to ask you if-”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” they sounded panicked, “please, save your breath, my love.” They pleaded. He feebly leaned in to kiss them, but then his world went black. His body fell like a ragdoll into Y/n’s arms.

Try as they might, they weren’t a healer. Purple light shone like a beacon in the black stormy night. They performed as many healing, even vaguely healing-ish fixit spells as they knew. Unfortunately, this was a stab wound from a magic blade. They couldn’t take him to the hospital, even if they had any trust in modern medicine. Hot tears streamed down their face. But the word hopeless is not devoid of hope. Hope sparked in their heart as they remembered something, somewhere, important.

They had to get him out of here, and fast. He was bleeding out. There was so, so much blood. It had positively soaked through Y/n’s already wet clothes before they were even half way to their destination. The smell of the rain mixing with all the blood was sickening. It was hard to find their way in this darkness. They slipped on the mud and tripped over rocks. Y/n was starting to slip into a panic attack. They couldn’t even go very fast, he was so heavy in their arms. And Y/n was frightened of hurting him even more by accident. Y/n was very, very frightened in general.

Time moved like molasses. In what could have been years for Y/n, the cave they were carrying Douxie to finally came within sight. Their heart was threatening to pound right out of their chest. They mustered up the last of their strength and broke out into a sprint. Bolting through the curtain doors of the cave and knocking around the strings of bones that hung with them, Y/n dropped to their knees.

“Please! Save him! I beg of thee.” They pleaded to the three old women sitting around the hearth.

***

Douxie was awoke to the sound of shuffling and unintelligible whispers. He could smell a strong mix of herbs in the air. He felt the soft back of a cold hand rest on his forehead, so he slowly opened his eyes. He was met with the red tear-streaked face of his beloved. Y/n gasped. they excitedly called to whoever else was in the room with them that he was now awake. He did not recognize these women. He did not recognize where he was. He supposed that didn’t matter.

Y/n pulled him into a gentle hug, as if he were made of glass. A handsome glass sculpture that would shatter if they let go of him. They just lied there, holding onto each other for dear life, for what must have been an hour. Breathing in each other’s scents, they had still refused to let go, but Douxie started to cough again. They reluctantly pulled apart, and y/n started their interrogation about any pain he might be experiencing. He was alright, a little sore, but fine. Nothing time won’t fix. And time he was glad to still have with them.

***

bonus A/N: i swear this was supposed to be normal, just a sappy proposal fic. but once i set everything up i was overcome with the urge to stab him. so i created a character specifically to stab him. idk im not sorry. at first i had eoin like, cheat the duel with magic, but i figured doux would be his own downfall with that bleeding heart of his we all love so much. happy november y’all.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Stunning Choice

AU: Pirates Au

Words: 1049

Rating: General

Pairings: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai/Tenzo|Yamato

Warnings: None

Summary: In the middle of a heist, Kakashi notices that Tenzo’s nowhere to be seen.

“Twelve minutes.”

Gai stood by the window in the master bedroom, eyes focused on the street watching for the owners’ return. Meanwhile, Kakashi and Yamato rummaged through everything that they could find and grabbed whatever looked good.

Jewelry, cash, weapons. Whatever looked expensive and was small enough to fit in their bags. They would sort it all out later on the ship when there wasn’t a time crunch.

Opening the top drawer of the nightstand, Kakashi sifted through everything until he found a knife tucked away in the corner with a navy blue and silver handle and a beautiful sapphire stone right in the middle surrounded by an intricate design of silver leaves.

Not very practical for a fight, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Hey, Tenzo,” turning his head he sought out the other man, frowning when he didn’t spot him anywhere in the room. “What...Gai did you see where Tenzo went?”

“I think he went into the walk-in closet,” Gai’s eyes didn’t leave the window at all as he answered Kakashi’s question. “There’s usually some pretty expensive clothes at places like this, and clothes are easy to carry.”

Fair enough. It made sense that Tenzo would think to check the closet for expensive clothes and accessories. Silks would catch a fair price on the market, and the Daimyo’s wife was bound to have the fanciest shoes and jewelry.

If they found enough stuff to sell, maybe they’d be able to give the whole ship a new paint job and get a new sail so Kakashi could stop wasting time patching it up and relax a little.

Pocketing the knife, Kakashi got to his feet and headed towards the walk-in closet. On the way, he dropped his bag by Gai’s side and grabbed the empty one that Gai was keeping hold of for him.

One bag for each of them. Not too much to carry so that they could make an easy escape.

“Ten minutes.”

Gai’s reminder echoed in his ear as he made his way towards the closet.

Ten minutes to grab everything that they could and get out of there before Daimyo and his wife returned home. They could handle that.

“Hey, Tenzo, I found you a new kn-” stepping into the closet, Kakashi stopped in his tracks when he saw Tenzo standing in the middle of the tight space staring at a beautiful light blue kimono with a stunning purple Obi-age wrapped around the middle. Unlike all of the other clothes, this Kimono was placed in the center of the closet on an easily accessible hanger, with a few others hanging behind it.

This was clearly the place to go for the wife’s favourite fancy outfits.

The entire time he was standing there, Tenzo’s eyes hadn’t left the Kimono. Not to acknowledge Kakashi’s presence, and not even to search the closet for anything worth stealing. They were glued on that one gorgeous Kimono, and Kakashi could sort of understand.

It would look stunning on the right person.

“I don’t suppose you have someone in mind to wear that?” Tenzo drew his sword, ready to take off Kakashi’s head until his Captain grabbed his arm to stop him. “Sorry. Didn’t think you’d mistake me for an enemy.”

Tenzo’s body was stiff, ready for a fight. His eyes searched the area as if he didn’t believe that he wasn’t in danger. He was wound up so tight that Kakashi was convinced he’d snap at any moment.

“Tenzo,” resting a hand on his shoulder, Kakashi gently pulled him back against his body and slid his free arm around his waist. “What’s up? You seem...distracted.”

Nothing was said.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there. Tenzo resting comfortably in Kakashi’s hold, and Kakashi waiting patiently for an answer while examining the Kimono that had caught Tenzo’s attention.

It was one of the most beautiful Kimonos he had ever seen.

“You should wear it,” He spoke without thinking, a smile tugging at his lips when Tenzo turned his head to look at him with wide eyes. “I think you would look good in it. The prettiest pirate in all of Japan. I can see the look on Gai’s face now when he sees you in it-”

“Seven Minutes!” Gai’s voice rang through the air.

With not a lot of time left for them to rob the place, Kakashi made an executive decision. Sliding past his partner, he carefully removed the Kimono from its hanger and stuffed it into the bag he had grabbed from Gai.

“You can try it on when we get back to the ship,” he offered, already sifting through all of the other Kimono’s and picking out a few more for Tenzo to try on. Whichever one’s he didn’t like could be sold at the market, or given to any of the other crew members who wanted them. “Now it’s time to focus, Tenzo. We don’t have much time and there are still so many pretty things to steal.”

Picking out a stunning green Kimono, Kakashi threw it into the bag alongside the other. There were so many beautiful choices, but his mind was still stuck on the one that had caught Tenzo’s attention first.

The knife he had found would go perfectly with it. A beautiful but deadly combination, just like Tenzo. It was perfect.

“Time’s up!”

Hearing the panic in Gai’s voice, Kakashi threw a few pairs of shoes into his bag and grabbed Tenzo’s hand, tugging him out of the walk-in closet and chuckling when he was rewarded with a yelp and an annoyed ‘Kakashi’.

Maybe they hadn’t gotten everything that they could have, but there was no doubt they got what they needed.

` “Let’s get out of here,” coming to a stop beside Gai, he peered out the window to see the Daimyo’s carriage pulling up in front of the house. “Before they find the unconscious guards downstairs.”

“Good plan,” Gai took the bag from his hand and nodded towards the window. “After you, Captain.”

Now they just had to make a safe escape back to the ship and then Tenzo could put on a fashion show for him and Gai. No one else was invited.

They wouldn’t want to be there anyway. Just in case things got a little, heated.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 41

Back to Jaune we go.

If you experience positive psychotic symptoms don't ever use marijuana.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

"You think this will help?" I held the marijuana cigarette out in front of me and picked at a bug in my ear.

Greens for sure weren't likely to help with the paranoid thoughts, a goddess had her fingers in my mind, for real, or the suicidal thoughts, besides. But it just might take the edge off the bugs or the shadows.

Neo took it back from me and lit it. She took a long pull as though to say, 'see, safe.'

I took it back and inhaled the smoke in my lungs, it was still burning from where she lit it, and I took a drag. Almost immediately the bugs in my face eased. They weren't gone per se. They were muted. I could still feel them crawling around behind my eyes and in the tips of my extremities.

I coughed.

"Oh shit." I exhaled. "That's good." I chomped on the cigar and Neo beamed. "I'm going to need a box of these, just to keep it at bay." I'd brought up some of my hallucinations and Neo had picked this up for me.

She was looking up at me expectantly.

"Thank you, Neo."

She grinned up at me even though I was sitting on the bed and she was standing. We were in a different dingy motel than the one in which we'd tortured Nickel.

The greens were good. I inhaled them and leaned back on the bed. If Neo wanted to kill me this would be the best time to do it. Instead she plopped up on the bed beside me. "Well, I'm hooked." A shadow jumped out at me from the corner of my eye and I just didn't care. I was so relaxed.

I factory reset the Don's scroll. It wasn't quite as good as the military grade one I'd had before, but as far as civilian ones went it was top of the line.

"I need to go to this Merlot's lab. Cinder's boss, Salem, has some way of controlling me. All my psychotic symptoms started then. Or… well, maybe not. I need to learn about it if I want to fight it. You're welcome to come with. Cinder probably won't be there, but it's on the road to her for me. I have to go."

I brushed my new diamond studs. I'd gone all in on my new identity, Cloud, Cloud Strife. My hair was done up spikey, and I had a half cape around my waist. I still had Pyrrha's cape around my bicep on one arm but on the other I had a single long sleeve, on my pauldron side. The dark blues and blacks of my new clothes contrasted with the bronze of my armor nicely. My half cape billowed around my legs when I walked and my blonde hair shifted in any breeze. I still had a pair of long gloves on beneath my gauntlets. They ran elbow length.

I'd gotten my sword repaired, too. The warp wasn't bad to take out and I was only without the blade for a couple of hours yesterday. I'd just waited outside the smithy while they worked. What was I supposed to do and where was I going to go without my sword? Nowhere fast. And I wasn't Ruby to repair it myself. I might have been able to buff it out with a whetstone, but why take the risk when my pockets were overflowing with cash?

My weapons would still give me away, so would my face, but I'd done what I could in terms of disguising myself. Unless my friends saw me face to face or weapon to weapon they wouldn't be able to find me.

Neo made a stabbing gesture with her right hand.

"There will be people to kill and torture. At least one person. Probably. If not there will always be more in Atlas."

She made a show of considering it, one finger on her cheek. I knew how lonely she was, though. Plus I was sure she liked taking orders. It was weird but then not really. She liked having a boss. And just so long as she had people to maim, she was happy. I think she was happier working with me than she had been in a long time.

What? A girl's gotta heist.

It was a coin flip where Cinder was heading next, Atlas or Vacuo. So I'd flipped for it. It came up Atlas. I'd start digging around there in Solitas after I was done with the Merlot thing. Depending, of course, on what I learned from his lab. It was closer anyways. And it maintained my future availability of options by being closest to Vacuo over here and Vale. It was closest to all three of the other kingdoms, really, depending on how you looked at it. And the closed borders meant little to me if I had Neo with me.

I roached the joint and stared at the slightly spinning ceiling. The softly rotating fan was a pleasure to watch as I laid back. I rubbed at my chest, moving my hand in light circles over the deep scars there.

I missed Ruby and her soft touch in those moments.

Neo nodded at length. A single small gesture I felt through the bed. I sat up and held out a hand for her to shake on it. She did, a wide glittering grin on her face. Her eyes swapped colors at that.

She was wearing new clothes, too. She had a cape with some collar straps and her collar was done around inside out near her breasts. The fancy shirt ended at her midriff before a pair of nice white pants. She wore a pair of much shorter heels than before beneath that. She had a set of long white gloves on as well, much like myself.

"We'll take a train to the South to this city, Shumi." I pointed out on a map with my scroll, "From there we'll ride on horseback to Merlot's laboratory, here near a place called Wutai. A few weeks max. Then we'll be back on the hunt for Cinder. Who'll probably go to Atlas. She has unfinished business with Ironwood anyway."

She nodded along acceptingly. She pointed at where I'd thrown out the cigarette.

"Yep. We'll need a ration of those. They really help. I don't suppose you know where to find more?"

She gave me a coy nod. Hiding a smile behind her hands.

"Fantastic."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

She did indeed know where to find more.

A beefy guard waited outside a small house on the outskirts of Mistral. He was wider than me at the shoulders and had a few inches on me. At a glance I didn't feel the low hum of aura coming off of him though. He could be just withdrawn, at any rate.

Neapolitan and I walked up together. He gave us both a once over and we stood in silence. Then some other folks walked out of the house and he motioned to let us in. Controlling how many people were inside at any given time. Smart.

He held up a hand. "Your weapons," He had a slight accent. Atlesian, not unlike Weiss's but deeper and richer. "Leave them out here."

I pulled my harness off my back. Staring him straight in the eye the whole time. I didn't need Limit to kill him. I put them on a rack behind the gentleman and he stepped aside of the entrance.

Neo was let inside without any hassle, giving me a superior smirk as she twisted her umbrella in the rain. "Sure, rub it in."

She did. And even if she didn't, being without Crocea Mors made me uncomfortable. I was glad she was armed, if nothing else. Somebody to watch my back in a run down place like this was nice. And I always had Limit, just a short charge away.

We walked in on a place lined with jars and labels on them. Inside were greens of all sorts of names. Lemon Drop Haze. Blueberry Blitz. Lilac Diesel. They were all arranged on neat little rows on high shelves.

"Well I've got to hand it to you Neo…"

I was whistled at by a lanky dude in a ‘t’ shirt.

I was coming from a place of ignorance and I couldn't exactly ask Neo how the place worked.

"You been in here before?"

"No sir." I answered with a smile. "How much am I allowed to buy." Not what sizes did they come in, not anything else. What was the maximum amount of drugs I was allowed to leave with? They must have a limit to prevent resale. A closely monitored tight ship like this.

"Two ounces." That didn't seem like much. "And you gotta pay in cash, that is if no one told you."

"Not a problem. What would the-uh…" I gestured at him.

"Budtender," the Budtender said.

"Right. What would the Budtender recommend."

"For what? You wanna get high or you wanna relax?"

"Something to relax me," I told him.

"You want an indica, then. A bit mellower and a bit richer in the CBD."

He picked across the shelves. Staying away from things that had names like 'blitz,' or 'shard,' or 'rush.' He strayed towards the mellower sounding ones and distinctly avoided one which had 'panic' in its name.

"Lemon drop haze." He put his hand on one. "And...sunshine sherbet." He put his hand on another jar.

"Sounds good. An ounce of both, please."

He named a steep price. A couple hundred Lien. I whistled lowly. But the stuff Neo had given me was already wearing thin. The bugs were starting to come back and I needed relief. I could hear a low whispering too. That needed to stop. Fast, if possible.

I paid him in the cash requested without too much hesitation. The only other place I'd see real relief would be antipsychotic drugs. I didn't have the time to get a psychiatrist and as a huntsman I'd be forcibly relieved of my gear for potentially months.

PTSD was common amongst hunters and they couldn't have crazy ones running around. There were procedures in place for this that I was specifically trying to avoid. I just didn't have the time to get set up with something like that.

"You gonna need pipe-ware?" He asked.

I looked down at Neo. She rolled her pink and brown eyes and nodded. I could feel her aura against mine. Something cool with undercurrents underneath. An edge of something cruel.

"Yeah I'll need a pipe."

"They never just stop at one," he said with a smirk. Like he was sharing a closely held secret with me.

"One'll be good for now," I instead insisted.

"It'll be thirty extra for a pipe and if you want a grinder that'll be even more."

It sounded like a good idea so I took him up on it.

I paid him anyways, knowing he was gouging me. It didn't matter a whole lot to me at the moment anyways. He handed over two tins, a pipe and a grinder.

"Come back soon." He called at my shoulder. I stuffed the tins and paraphernalia into my pockets.

I took my weapon back from the man outside and gave it a once over. My serrated combat-camping knife, sword and shield all looked fine, just as I left them.

"Let's get out of this fucking town." I told Neo. "I'm done with this city."

I freshly ground up some greens while we were walking and put it in my new pipe. I took a long drag, like it was the first breath of fresh air I'd gotten in months.

She skipped to keep up with me. Making it look natural.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

"You assume there's nothing I can do to you, child. No torment I can bring upon you. You are mistaken."

I was hit with the sensation of making up but I couldn't turn my head. I rose from the train-car seat.

-then I was abruptly back in the train-car seat alone for all the world with the sensation of waking up again.

She hit me with that sensation. That feeling of waking up five more times and over what felt like subjective hours. My face crawled with bugs and I wanted to scream. I felt like I was falling for hours and hours.

-I jerked awake. There was Neo across from me in the train-car. I took a moment to get my bearings. It had been torturous. The sensation of waking up over and over again.

I breathed hard and Neo looked over at me, something like concern etched in her face.

"She's getting better at it," I said. "She's getting better at tormenting me. Cinder's boss."

I looked out the train-car window and watched the scenery pass us by. I watched a couple a few aisle's down. The man jumped and slapped his body like- well like he'd seen a bug on him. I was all too familiar with the sensation. The feeling of insects crawling across my skin and things jumping out at me from the corner of the eye. I recognized it.

I looked across from me and saw Neo's eyes narrowed in concentration. Her smile was wide in sheer delight.

"Neo," I whispered. "Neo!"

She looked at me and the man stopped his jumping-jacks. Her focus wanted on whatever illusion she had crafted. Pink and brown shifted in her hair as she changed focus.

"For gods' sake you're like a child. I'll get you people to torture for real. Knock it off."

She gave me a brooding look but nodded.

"Play some games on your scroll. For goodness sake. Don't torture just to torture. Do it with purpose."

She made a faux-angry face at me.

"Yeah I'm mad. Stop it. When we find Merlot you get to do all the torturing, sound fair? Even though he's my dad or whatever."

She gave me an odd look at that.

"I think… I think I was born in a tank. There are images of water. Muffled people talking. I think I was born pretty much full grown with whatever they had done to me already done to me."

"I don't know what they did to me. I don't know what I am. But when we find Merlot you get to be first in line for hurting him."

"They said he does experiments on Grimm, that might mean… it might mean that I'm part Grimm. That means I'm a monster. And you get to go first against the guy who did that to me. Sound even? We square?"

She didn't nod or give me any gesture. She just sat in her typical silence.

"Look… whatever. Just stop fucking with people who don't deserve it. If you're going to work for me then you only get to torment the people I say so. We clear?"

She still made no gesture.

"I said 'are we clear?'"

She gave me one firm nod. Her eyes were wary in part. Like she was anxious of making a deal she didn't want to keep. Like I was some fae of myth contracting her into bondage.

"Good. I promise it won't be all bad. And when we get to Atlas we'll have to make a name for ourselves. Make people scared of us. It's just an intermission on the torture and heists. They're not over."

Maybe I was a little antsy too. I wanted another pull of greens. The bugs were starting to become a bit of menace. And I couldn't exactly take a hit while in the slightly crowded train.

And Hell, I was bored, too.

"Plus there might be bandits out here. You can do whatever you want to them, I don't give a fuck."

"Heard there was a big tribe of bandits too. The Branwens you heard of them? Well I especially don't care what happens to them. Go nuts."

"With my luck I'm sure something will come up anyways. You'll get your kicks. Have I steered you wrong yet? That's what I thought. And I let you kill the Don even though I kinda wanted to. He threatened some disgusting stuff on my friends. I really wanted to snap his neck. Instead I let you cut him. That was grand, wasn't it?"

"So when I say you'll get your kicks in you better believe me. We just have to be patient for a bit. Play things smart and close to the chest."

"Otherwise Salem will get us," I exhaled. "Cinder and Salem both will get the two of us with impunity."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[yandere-daydreams]

if request slots are open: consider. i know you don’t like shoto but listen listen. royalty!au in which the darling is also a royal, of an opposing kingdom. shoto just thinks they’re so soft and lovely and why won’t they accept his marriage proposal?

This is pure self-indulgence, really. I just want to use fancy language and imagery and say nothing bluntly ever because straight-forwardness was only invented in the 1900s, and this is a reality I accept.

TW: Dehumanization, Abuse of Power, and Metaphors.

~

Your kingdom was known for never refusing a guest.

It was a state more than a nation, really, a wonderful city that relied on trade and unity to sustain itself. As such, you were more of a diplomat than a ruler, a host dressed in jewels and made to entertain true leaders from the allies held in such high-esteem by your advisors. You’d mastered the art of meaningless conversation, your patience taught to you by decades of being talked-over, and although many royals had seen fit to test your policy, there was always a free room ready when they were prepared to humble themselves and accept it. You adored that part of your occupation, how kind you got to be, to your people, traveling peasants, kings and queens and anyone who crossed your path. You liked to be generous.

But, Shoto was not a Prince known for bringing out the best in people. And you were certainly no exception to his contagious aversion.

Usually, you would make an effort to greet your visitors in the courtyard, but his visits were too frequent and too impulsive for you to do so much as stand before his entourage was in your throne room, the young Prince standing before you. He didn’t seem to mind your lack of enthusiasm, the boy smiling so brightly as he stepped in front of the elevated platform. You didn’t doubt he would run to your seat, if given the chance, but your personal guards made their aggression known as soon as his foot touched the first step of the short flight. “My Songbird,” He greeted, instead, not seeming to notice the way you cringed at the nickname. “You haven’t been responding to my letters, but my yearning still persists. Have you grown tired of singing to me so quickly?”

“I do not see why it’s necessary to respond to inquiries I have already answered.” Your voice was cold, at best, frigid at worst. You didn’t have it in your heart to be cruel to anyone, much less a friend you had once held so dear. Even with how appealing he made cruelty seem, these days. “I am not your songbird, but if I was, I think you would dread having to hear the same two notes play on a never-ending loop. God knows my throat has grown sore from delivering them.” You paused, glancing towards the advisor on your left, positioned there on the chance your behavior slipped into something less than agreeable. She waited a moment, pondering, but a nod was all you needed to proceed. “You must be tired, Todoroki, please allow my valet to show you to your chambers. A long journey deserves an even longer rest.”

You saw Shoto falter, a hand unconsciously coming to rest on the sword at his belt. You guards mirrored the gesture, although you didn’t take it as a threat. “I am thankful for any note you grace me with,” He assured, taking another step forward. “But, there are three that would make me euphoric. Isn’t that what you should want? Why would you sing at all, if not to make someone happy?”

Straightening you back, you leaned forward, uncrossing your legs to better fill your throne. “I sing for my own joy, no one else’s. Be glad I am forgiving enough to let you listen from a distance.” He opened his mouth, but you carried on, drawing circles in the velvet under your arms. “My answer is no, and there is nothing you can do to change my mind. When I find a shelter I can roost in, one I choose to roost in, then and only then will make my nest. I have no desire to make my home a cage, regardless of how golden the bars.”

At that, he smiled, and you dug your nails into the soft fabric. “It would be a beautiful cage, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re intolerable,” You mumbled, deflating. It was hard to be angry, now, the disappointment cutting through you more deeply than the knife of loathing ever could. Marriage was not a necessity, to you. Unlike his own clan, your’s had never placed an emphasis on blood. You’d been an orphan most of your life, and you had no issue with continuing the tradition your childless parents had started. Children who’d never known love always seemed more appreciative when receiving it, although you’d admit Shoto’s existence contested that theory. “I cannot–”

“And a beautiful cage deserves a stunning creature to inhabit it,” Shoto continued, speaking over you without hesitation. Another step was taken, then another, leaving Shoto towering before you, too close for comfort. You were tempted to stand, if only to put the two of you at an equal height, but Shoto would’ve simply found another way to place himself above you. He was good at that, especially if it meant making you feel small. “Think of it as an alliance. Your country would have my father’s army behind it, and I would have you. Is that not a worthwhile sacrifice?” You weren’t given time to answer his question, Shoto dropping to one knee unceremoniously, suddenly. It caught you off guard, enough so for you to lean forward, moving to help him up. But, Shoto only took your extended hand, holding your palm to his cheek as he spoke. “Visits aren’t enough, this isn’t enough. I wish to have you as my partner, and if I don’t, I can not guarantee my next action will be one of peace.”

You jerked back, not asking for permission before pushing yourself onto your feet. It took more of your self-control than it should’ve to keep from telling him to leave, to get out of your castle and never come back. Your anger must’ve been visible, because your advisor reached out as soon as your fists had a chance to ball, a steady palm coming to rest on your shoulder. It was a small consolation, but it snapped you out of your rage nonetheless, even if your calmness was still volatile when regained.

“Rest, Little Prince. Exhaustion has clouded your better judgment.” His eyes widened, lips contorting into a frown, but you didn’t give him a chance to refuse. Instead, you made the first move, waving for your guards to follow as you descended the short staircase. “If I hear one more word about marriage, I fear I may be the one to abandon our treaties. This songbird wishes to sing in another court, for now.”

 Shoto was quick to stay on your heels, his excuses following just as closely. “But–”

“One more word,” You warned, his troop of guards and servants parting to let you through. “I don’t wish to make an enemy out of you. Please, enjoy my city and take advantage of my hospitality, but do not approach me with the same attitude. I have made up my mind, and my decision is final.”

And with that, you left. That was the advantage of his petname, you supposed.

Flying away was much easier when you were given wings.

But, Shoto was a beast of the ground, unfortunately.

He stayed as you fled, watching you run from him like prey from a predator. Part of him acknowledged your feelings, or the lack thereof, rather. He knew you didn’t love him, not truly, and he knew you didn’t care for him as he cared for you. He knew you didn’t want to be with him.

And yet, you were kind and welcoming and genuine. You were loving towards him, even if you didn’t love him.

Shoto took a moment to scan over the room. His guards surrounded him, as faithful as ever, each buzzing for an order. His father had never allowed him to travel lightly, even when Shoto was more than capable of protecting himself. Your nation didn’t have the same strength. With no standing army, no way to defend yourself, you relied on neutrality and alliances for protection. It was a symbolic security, but one that would stand unless a very powerful, very feared kingdom attacked.

Unless Shoto’s kingdom attacked.

He decided he would bring the idea to his siblings, as he waited for the room’s doors close behind you. It would be a controversial suggestion, but there was territory to be gained, resources that could help more deserving people. With their forces, it would be over in a matter of days, hours, even. He doubted your ‘allies’ would care, by the end of the week.

Besides, Shoto had a pet who needed to be put back on their leash. 

You seemed to think you’d outgrown your cage.

[nuttyjellyfishlover]

One Piece Anime Wano Arc Episodes 890

One Piece Anime: Wano Arc, Episodes 890 This honestly is less going to be a review and more of a commentary as I watch through the anime's rendition of the Wano arc. I've honestly never really watched too much of the One Pieceanime, mostly just looking up the highlights of the arcs I read in the manga. I did watch the filler episodes and most of the movies, as I've talked about at length recently. And everyone tells me that the anime has some rather terrible pacing, particularly around the time of Dressrossa, which is apparently pretty padded out. But then I heard the absolute opposite for Wano, where the anime has received a new art-style and one hell of a fancy makeover. And I thought... hey, I'm on a One Piece kick this year, clearly, so yeah, I think I'm going to give this a shot.

The Wano arc, I think, is one that works a lot better because it has the reverse problem of a lot of One Piece arcs -- there are a lot of moments in Act One of the manga's version of the story that the writer clearly purposefully threw in a couple of off-screened moments that the anime could expand into full action scenes. I already know that Sanji versus Page One is fully animated in the anime, and scenes like Big Mom vs. Kaido or Zoro vs. Basil Hawkins are extended a lot more than the couple of panels we had in the manga. And Wano's got a lot of supporting characters, some of which actually get swept under the rug when I first read through the manga chapters weekly. So yeah, having bright colours and voices and music is going to make this a much more fun experience!

Anyway, here goes my collection of random notes and commentary. Be aware that there will be MANGA SPOILERS, as I will point out a couple of things here and there about stuff I notice that's foreshadowing or whatever:

* Marco's blue-and-yellow phoenix form looks so, so much more vibrant and pops out compared to anything else in the series in colour, huh? I think out of any other character, Marco is extra-memorable in animated format. * That said, basically half this episode is just a recap of the Paramount War. I mean, I haven't seen the Paramount War in full animated format, so it's nice to hear Whitebeard and Ace and Marco speak some of their more famous lines there. But on the other hand, it's also it's kind of one of the more-criticized parts of the One Piece anime that any time they could pad out an episode with scenes from a previously-produced episode, they will. * We actually get to see the Grudge/Payback War in the anime! I think this is less of a showcase of events that actually happened and more of a symbolic one, but hey, we get to see Blackbeard doing some sky-quakes and black holes and Marco turning phoenix. It just shows the Whitebeard division commanders getting sucked into a giant Dragon-Ball-esque spirit bomb Black Hole. Actually pretty neat! * Jozu has both arms in that vision. Whether it's an error or a spoiler or if he has a prosthetic a la Akainu in Film: Z, we'll see eventually.

* This episode also has a bit of a recap of the revelations about Wano from the Zou arc, but it's a lot shorter and feels a lot more relevant to the upcoming arc. * Brook actually expresses some interest on Vivi, apparently having heard of her from the others. I've always liked this from the filler episodes, of the newer Straw Hats slowly learning about prior adventures. Brook being Brook, of course, a panty joke was tossed in. * The Japanese-art style water waves look so pretty when animated! * The random octopus that makes Japanese kabuki theater (?) sounds is another thing that works so much better in the anime. I've always thought it felt a bit forced and random in the manga version. * The high-tempo music when the Sunny sails into the koi waves is very, very fun! * Ah, yes, the very first chapter of Wano in the manga shows off a bunch of carps jumping up a waterfall. You know, considering the whole legend that a carp that jumps over the waterfall transforms into a dragon... i.e., a fish that is also a dragon...

* The first one that's properly and almost fully drawn in the new Wano art style! And it looks gorgeous. * Also a new theme song! I've never paid that much attention to theme songs in anime, but I definitely like "One Dream One Wish" more than "We're the Super Powers". Shame that, as with most anime, the opening sort of spoils, like, half of the things that happens in the arc. * Speaking of great background music... the tempo of that opening instrumental that Komurasaki plays on shamisen is pretty catchy, especially with that octopus going iyooo~ in the background. It also makes for very fun background music for Zoro's rampage at the end of the episode. * Anime Wano is so freaking colourful. The rooftops, the kimonos, the hair... I think I remembered reading that Oda made it a point to subvert the fact that everyone in feudal Japan had black hair by explicitly doing the opposite -- black hair is the exception rather than the norm in Wano. Fun! * The frog on Usopp's hat is a real frog! I always thought it was just a hat! It's adorable! The wiki tells me it's called Gama Pyonnosuke. It's an adorable friend! Forget Carrot or Kin'emon or Yamato, Gama Pyonnosuke for next Straw Hat! * The biggest expansion here is that we actually follow Zoro around as he wanders around the city until he gets arrested by the corrupt magistrate. And Zoro actually bumps into the man-slayer and corrupt magistrate, actually explaining why he recognizes the specific scent of blood during the whole seppuku court. * And then we get around a minute of Zoro fighting the magistrate guards with the seppuku knife and good ol' fisticuffs, something that I didn't think I needed, but is certainly very fun to watch! * This new animation studio loves the angled zoom-in into eyes, and I highly approve. I think we had that like at least three times when Zoro decides to get dangerous.

* I never quite realized that if Luffy hadn't been interrupted by the octopus and washed up next to the Thousand Sunny, the poor ship would be literally left to its own devices. You'd think after losing Merry, the Straw Hats would be more careful with their ships... * Zoro gets to slash the magistrates up even more! It's a single Tatsu Maki, but god damn what a pretty Tatsu Maki. The shot of his feet kicking and breaking the wooden floor, the black aura around his blades, the way that the dragon aura appears behind him, the demonic red eyes as Zoro slams down from the sky, and the shots of the surrounding terrain being cut up into cubes... pretty awesome! * Luffy dodging the bullet from the random Beast Pirate goon with Observation Haki and the gomu-gomu-long-range-bitchslap has always been cool in the manga, and this episode makes it even cooler. Those glowing eyes! This is going to be the whole commentary, isn't it? Just me commenting on the scenes I find to be really cool? * Luffy's Conqueror Haki against the giant baboon is another very cool one. From the expression to the delivery of the line to the sound effect... Luffy's expression is actually pretty cool and borderline scary as he beats up the second goon. No wonder Tama went straight into "This is the I surrender pose!" * Also added in the anime is a vignette of Franky, Robin and Usopp seeing the news of Zorojuro becoming a wanted criminal. Again, not entirely necessary to know the story, but actually scenes that I don't mind being shown to us. Particularly that scene of Usopp utterly bullshitting an officer. * Luffy pets Komachiyo with his rubber arms. Komachiyo is a good boy. This is the most important scene.

* Did the manga show Luffy hiding the Sunny and letting it anchor in a cave? I don't remember it. I know that before the flashback and the raid we see the Sunny there, but it's nice to actually show Luffy not being so callous with the Sunny. * They got a pretty good voice actress for Tama that really makes her pretty adorable! So many times these kid guest star characters end up being annoying if they don't get a good voice, but between the voice-acting and the expressions, she's pretty fun! * Also, I think this is going to be something I repeat a couple of times, but both Tama and Tenguyama are so much more visually interesting with their full colour palettes. * Oh, right, Drake was the one that ransacked Tama's village. Wonder if that'll actually come up later on in the story... * Okay, thanks to the anime, it's really going to drill to me that it's pronounced 'Diez Drake' and not 'Eks Drake'. * I'm pretty sure everyone noticed it, but Ace learned to weave hats in Wano! That's how he became buddies with Oars Junior! I didn't notice it until just now!

* (Episode is the Cidre Guild filler arc that ties in to Stampede.) * What is Tenguyama waiting for? It's probably Oden or his retainers, but I don't think he's part of the samurai that was recruited by Kin'emon's group. Maybe he just missed the big recruitment drive, but that's weird. I wonder what role he's going to play in the arc... * There is a random metal guitar riff when Luffy sees the Nidai Kitetsu. And a glow of Observation Haki on Luffy's eyes. That's a small detail, but very cool! He also uses Observation when Hawkins arrives later on. I love the little trail of glowing red that streams out of his pupils when he activates it. * Tenguyama's sword has a very cool leaf-based handguard! Never noticed that. * Speaking of cool Observation Haki effects, Zoro's apparently activates when he senses sake. Appropriate! * I know it's me repeating this over and over, and we'll get so many cooler scenes later on, but Zoro casually launching that Phoenix Cannon to blow up the two random raptor-riders when he saves Tsuru? Such a simple scene but still so cool. Also very cool is the very brief slo-mo as Zoro re-angles the pathway of his slice when cutting down the second random goon. * Unlike most of the other things, I've always noticed that Basil Hawkins has a very cool Koma-deer mount. It looks even cooler in motion!

* This is perhaps one of the more extended scenes, since it features... fight scenes! In the manga, I think this lasted... maybe half a chapter? Less? A couple of page spreads? It's not just the Hawkins fight, either, Luffy's 'swordfighting' with Nidai Kitetsu also gets extended. Luffy's a bit more successful in using the sword to block and parry here. * Luffy's voice actor really makes the 'de gozaru' sound really funny. * I 100% missed Tsuru the first time I read through this chapter since we only see part of her in a single panel before her full-body debut after the Hawkins fight, and it's a lot less likely that you'll make that mistake in the anime. * Some 'elite' goons show up here, including a guy that uses his ponytail as a whip against Zoro, and a dude that makes fissures with a hammer that fights Luffy. Probably feels a bit more filler-y compared to the rest of the action scenes, but that's honestly nitpicking. * Zoro launching a Phoenix Cannon that slashes Hawkins's face is very cool. * Hawkins' little straw dolls gets an extended scene of it crawling out of his arm. It's so creepy, I love it. * Hawkins' giant straw demon StandBankaigets an very cool summoning animation and it's so creepy. The skies darkens and everything. Most importantly, it makes noises! Again, I love it.

* Luffy and Zoro vs. Hawkins! It's extended beyond just the simple 'dodge, then one-shot-slash' that it was in the manga. I really like Hawkins and his creepy-ass Straw Stand, so I am a huge fan of this. We get a couple of nice juxtaposition shots of Hawkins and the straw monster. Also Zoro goes shirtless in the fight. That's an important detail! * I really, really love how Zoro is having a gritted-teeth expression as he fights the giant straw demon; the straw demon is going gakakakakakakaka like a lunatic... then we cut to Hawkins who has a deadpan, bored expression as he swings his sword in the distance. * The animators really like to let the straw monster use the nails entwined to the tips of its fingers. That's fun! Zoro backhand-blocking the nails from hitting Luffy and Tama? That's cool! * Zoro does Ichi-Gorilla-Ni-Gorilla at one point, and totally slices and 'kills' Hawkins a bunch of times. * Also, speaking of pretty, glowing-eyes motion shots, Zoro using Nigiri: Toro Samon? Yeah. The cut itself is cool, but the zoom-in on Zoro's eyes as he does so? I'm sorry, I have a weakness for that kind of shot, it appears. * To extend the fight so that it's not just a single exchange of blows, Komachiyo gets knocked to the ground so that Zoro and the straw demon can actually fight for a bit. * Also shots I have a weakness to? DBZ-style 'aftermath of a powerful move'. This one isn't too over-the-top, but the slash extending into the sky and the shockwave rippling out from where Zoro slices the strawman thing is cool. * We actually see the scene of Okiku being harassed by Urashima in chronological order, and Urashima scares off a customer. Also, the implied scene of Zoro scaring off Urashima is actually shown here.

* This episode kind of extends the scenes in Tsuru's shop a bit more. Not the most exciting thing, but it does really help to build up Tama, Tsuru and Kiku. * ...wait, Tsuru's shop just displays the Kozuki crest very, very evidently on its door awning. If simply speaking the Kozuki name alone is a punishable crime, how did they get away with that? * Zoro trying to get Luffy to adopt a Wano-ized name is extra-funny in the anime! * Speaking of extended fight scenes, Batman gets to shoot alotmore arrows at Luffy and Zoro. It's kind of over-the-top on Batman's part, if we're being honest, even if Zoro and Luffy very easily dispatches of them.

* The anime does give Batman the ability to control his arrows via sonic waves or something, but he lasted for a much, much longer time than he really should have. * Batman fucking blocks Luffy's Busoshoku-empowered punch! He most definitely doesn't do it in the manga, and sure, knocking Luffy down with sonic waves? I buy that. Blocking Luffy and causing a small explosion in the air? ...I'm pretty sure just some random Gifter isn't supposed to be able to do that. Unless they're thinking of the other Batman? * They make the initial shot of Holdem answering the phone with the lion face pretty intimidating! * Holdem's lion beating their shared balls is still one of the weirdest jokes in the manga. * Some really nice face shots in this one, from Tama to Holdem to the lion to Luffy's group.

* A pretty obvious extended filler is Urashima bullying other sumo wrestlers. Urashima is kind of a dipshit, so it's not a particularly enjoyable filler for me. * Zoro gets to sumo-wrestle with one of Urashima's goons! This one, on the other hand, is pretty fun. We also get a little added bit where Zoro smirks after remembering Kiku's earlier insistence that she's a samurai, so it's less of a 'he doesn't give a shit' and more 'he wants to see what Kiku's skill is' or something.

* Luffy vs. Urashima is prolonged a bit in here, obviously. Not as entertaining as fighting Hawkins or even Batman, but okay, sure. Lots of grunting and growling in this one. Urashima cheats a bit more, Luffy has to use Armament Haki at one point... really don't think Urashima's someone that you should bother using hardening on, Luffy. * The kabuki-style delivery of "I'm going to be the king of pirates" is very well done. * Poor Tama! Holdem's a jackass. * We actually get to see Urashima crashing into Holdem's house, in yet another obvious 'hey, anime team, this is something for you to animate' scene from the manga. * Law gets an extended scene with seeing the sick Bepo, including a Room/Scan showcase and Bepo looking cute and Law being unable to keep being angry at him.

* The fight against the pirates and samurai in Bakura Town gets extended a fair bit in this episode. Luffy throws Nidai Kitetsu's scabbard around again, repeating the thing he did before. * This episode noticeably has a bunch of brief flashbacks to previous episodes. Anime episodes do this all the time to easily eat up like, ten or fifteen seconds of runtime. But I felt this one was particularly noticeable since it's to the previous episode which we already had a recap segment of before the episode begun. * Ball-de-boo!

* We get an adorable crayon drawing memory when Luffy remembers Zunisha one-shotting Jack's fleet. * Luffy and Zoro's synchronized neck-crick is pretty fun. Also fun is their super-speed when they simultaneously rescue Tama and steal the food barge. The question is, where is this super-speed when they were bamboozled by Batman and Gazelleman? * Unlike the anime, Holdem is able to turn his sword into a flaming segmented sword. It's like Zabimaru from Bleach, but on fire! * We get an extra scene of a random goon holding Kiku hostage and Zoro locking eyes with her and saying "I'm not going to help you", knowing full well she's pretending to be a damsel in distress. * Speed also gets to do something here! She gets to shoot Armament Haki'd arrows at Zoro and Kiku! In the manga she doesn't do anything while this is happening. * REDDO HAAAAAWK! * God damn that's a very satisfying Red Hawk. Such a pretty-looking one! This was the scene that a friend showed me that got me excited to sit down and watch the Wano arc in anime format. From Holdem shooting a lion's fire (how does that work?) and engulfing Luffy, to Tama's yelling, to the zoom-in to Luffy's angry eyes, to the orb of flame dissipating, the zoom-in to Luffy's angry face, the impact, the music... it's just Luffy beating up Holdem, who means jack-all in the grand scheme of things, but what a badass Red Hawk.

And I think that's a neat place to stop off, with the initial Hawkins-Urashima-Holdem opening prologue to Wano done with. I'm not sure how often I'll update this little watch-along series, but I certainly am enjoying myself!

[zargsnake]

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 3: The Death Match

Word Count: 1393 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

  *   *   *

Tied to the chair, gagged with golden tape, and with ten blasters held around his head by a bevy of tiny droids, Anakin blinks in the brightness of the arena. He is reminded distinctly of podracing. He is confident that a large portion of this wild audience knows exactly who he is; his victory on Tatooine, he knows, ruined the economies of interplanetary gangs and entire systems run by gambling types. He hopes the short hair and fancy robe conceal his identity a little. 

Anakin hears a gleeful, showy voice echo through the arena.

“The rumors you have heard -- they are all true! A new Jedi knight has fallen into our mighty leader's trap! And the warrior lucky enough to have first go at him is the ferocious, bloodthirsty monster-wrangler, the Scourge of the Delta Sector, the nasty, horrible -- VINGO MAKLARIAN!!!”

A heavily-scarred, 7-foot-tall Twi’lek cyborg runs out into the arena, theme music playing. The fighter throws small explosives from a tray attached to his mechanical shoulder; one of the sparks lands on Anakin's face. He winces in pain but can't move his arms.

Anakin evidently isn't the only one struck by a stray explosion, as evidenced by the scream and shrieks of laughter behind him.

The announcer’s voice booms, “Have we had our first casualty?” There is more laughter. “Keep your heads up, my lords and ladies in the front rows! You will get wet! You may get soaked!”

This guy is so annoying, thinks Anakin, between sobs.

“And here he is, the Big Event -- Jedi Knight Number Two in the First Galactic Jedi Death Match! He might not look like much, but his pedigree remains to be seen -- Oooobi-Wan Kenoooobi!”

The door on the other side of the arena slides upward with a squeaking rumble, and Obi-Wan emerges. Anakin feels a wave of relief. He is safe now.

“MFFFSFFR!!”

Obi-Wan hears the muffled call above the din, and his head swivels to his student. He sees Anakin sitting across the sandy arena, bound and gagged and ringed by blasters.

“Anakin!”

Anakin shuts his eyes -- the light glinting off Obi-Wan's sword is too bright to bear. He opens them a sliver and peeps through his eyelashes and tears. They took away Obi-Wan's lightsaber, too, of course, and they gave him a plain weapon instead. Anakin recognizes it: a Hutteese vibroblade. He recognizes the outfit they've put him in, too: padded tan armor, covered in logos.

He saw a death match on Tatooine, once. It is unnerving to see the trappings of his old life upon the hero of his new one.

“Have no fear, Anakin!”

Anakin nods and tries his best to obey as Vingo approaches Obi-Wan, flinging explosives at the Jedi. Obi-Wan deflects them easily. As Vingo draws closer, Anakin sees Obi-Wan put on the serene face he makes when faced with a difficult decision.

You have to do it, Master! It's not your fault!

Anakin sees Obi-Wan look at him with a very hard, stern face, as if to say, “This is wrong, but I have no choice.” Anakin trusts his moral judgment, just as he used to trust his mother’s. This is a bit of a trick, since they are quite different.

Obi-Wan turns his face back to his opponent and kills him with one swift blow to his guts. The corpse falls to the side and the people gasp, cheer, and boo. Anakin shivers to have seen his master kill someone. Obi-Wan scowls at the bloody sword and wipes it off on his sleeve.

The announcer’s voice rings out, “Incredible!!! The shortest death match that we have ever seen!! This Obi-Wan Kenobi must not be underestimated! But can he handle the terrifying, mysterious maiden of the shadows, CREEL CYBALO?!!”

The crowd roars as another opponent steps out, a great apelike humanoid beating her chest -- but she is again no match for Obi-Wan. For the third match, Obi-Wan stretches it out a bit more, trying to cross the arena to get closer to Anakin, but Obi-Wan remains in control the whole time. Anakin winces at the flashes of light and grunts of pain by the doomed opponents. Obi-Wan mimes for Anakin to shut his eyes, but Anakin disobeys. At the end of the third match, the announcer walks onto the field, followed by three women carrying golden boxes.

“Unbelievable! What a gladiator you are! I've never seen anyone fight like you. You far surpass the other Jedi!” The crowd roars and claps. “As per the official rules, after three victories you are granted one prize. Will you take…” The first woman opens her box. “A Corellian blaster -- next year’s model?” The crowd cheers.

“Or perhaps …” The second woman opens her box. “The deed to the moon of Qualkori?” There are gasps of amazement.

“Or, best of all …” The third woman drops her box and holds her arms apart. “This beautiful slave, the loveliest pearl of the Vappiax Sea?” The crowd laughs and cheers and applauds as the announcer holds his microphone in front of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan stands quite still, wiping his sword fastidiously, and replies, “I want ten minutes with my Padawan.” He gestures his head backwards at Anakin. The crowd offers confused applause and laughter.

“Your wish ... is my command!”

The crowd cheers, satisfied, as the guards escort Obi-Wan out the door from which he entered. Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder and sees the droids around Anakin untie him. A thin panel opens on the side of the arena and they drag him through it. 

Obi-Wan stands in a small, dim room. Through the sparking red grates on either side, he sees other warriors preparing for battle. A curtain parts and Anakin stumbles through.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan kneels next to him and holds his chin. He uses the Force to weaken the adhesive on the golden tape, and deftly but tenderly tears it off the boy’s face. “Are you hurt?”

“D-dislocated shoulder.”

“Alright. Hold onto me with your other arm while I fix it.” Anakin obeys, and Obi-Wan gingerly repositions the boy’s shoulder. Anakin shudders as he holds Obi-Wan’s arm fiercely. The pain greatly subsides, though not completely.

“Feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Do not strain it.” Obi-Wan puts a hand on Anakin’s healthy shoulder. “Be at peace. I will get us out of this.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin wipes his sore face and feels more tears about to pour out. He badly swallows a sob and gives himself the hiccups.

“I retained this in secret. Eat it.” Obi-Wan takes a rationstick from his boot and gives it to Anakin. The boy eats it. They are silent as Obi-Wan thinks and Anakin chews and looks across the grate at the other warriors. Suddenly Anakin bends close and whispers in his master's ear.

“I know some of these fighters. They’re pretty -- hic -- famous.”

“They are?”

“Among Hutt slaves, yeah.”

“Are they all slaves?”

Anakin pauses. “No. None of these ones are.”

“How do you know?”

“We don't have time for that. I'll tell you later. These guys are in it for the fame and fortune.”

“So--”

“That snake-woman is the adopted daughter of -- hic -- Jabba the Hutt.”

“Who's that?”

Anakin looks at him like he's crazy.

“What?”

“It doesn't matter. I'm just saying, try not to kill her all the way, or you'll get a bounty on your head. Just maim her or something.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Not for most people. But for someone like that, it's -- hic -- expected.”

“Alright. Got it.”

“...That Mando in red... Watch your back.”

“There is a Mandalorian?”

“A what?”

“A Mando...lorian?”

“Uh, I dunno. The guys in helmets.”

“I lived on Mandalore for years. I know their moves.”

Anakin shakes his head. “Not this one. He will -- hic -- shoot you in the back.”

“Not me.”

“Yes you. Don't turn away from him for a second. He’s got a blaster in his left arm and a hidden, detach-- hic --able knife in his right.”

“You know him?”

“I know him... I saw one death match before. That Mando killed my mom's boyfriend.”

Obi-Wan is taken aback. “I thought you didn't have a father.”

“Not my father. I -- hic -- introduced them.”

“You introduced your mother to a gladiator?”

“He was very cool.”

Obi-Wan nods. “Thank you, Padawan. You're using our ten minutes far more productively than I am.”

“I want to help.”

“You are. Thank you. Anak--”

A droid’s arm snatches the boy out of Obi-Wan's grasp, leaving the man alone in his room with a swinging curtain. He feels someone die in the arena, just outside his door, as the matches continue without pause.

Chapter 4: Chahlee Tiango