#though I’m not sure how well magical law would hold up in like normal courts

[gothamghostwhispers]

You already have a place with us if you need one

HOLY SHITF??>@?!?!?!?@!

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Leon brings Merlin and Lancelot in on his underground enterprise;

Turns out, Leon is the biggest Magic Ally out there. Confusion, bonding, and sneaky hijinks ensue.

I imagine it starts fairly normally.

The Gang (King Arthur, Merlin, and the five knights) have literally just arrived back at the castle after a fairly uneventful hunt (I mean... nowadays, getting attacked by bandits only once in three days counts as uneventful).

Merlin is left behind to help the stablehands untack the horses, like usual, except he leaves the stables half a candle mark later to find Leon awkwardly loitering around outside, the evening dimming around him.

He thinks maybe the First Knight had gotten injured, and was too embarrassed to ask for help in front of everyone (something that is common in all of the knights. Merlin thinks it’s very stupid, and has told all of them this at least once), so doesn’t question it when Leon asks Merlin for a quick word, and leads him back to his quarters.

Leon locks the door behind him. Not unusual, the man was very private. It’s when he puts a chair in front of the door and draws the curtains, that Merlin starts to get a little nervous. He’d cast a small enchantment on one of the bandits, to make him confused enough to trip over his own feet (as opposed to skewering Elyan, which is what he’d been about to do) but Merlin was certain that no one had seen him. He was certain.

And... Leon was a knight. He’d been a knight for longer than Arthur had been King, longer than he’d even known Merlin. Surely if he saw... he would've said something, accused him or just killed him.

(He has to remind himself to have a little faith in his friends. But also: “This might be completely unrelated, so just act natural.”)

Leon turns around to look at Merlin, and instantly recognises how nervous the younger man is, despite his poor attempt to hide it. The knight keeps his distance, and gives him a slow nod:

“I just wanted to let you know, Merlin, if you ever need... ah, a way out of the city, unseen, at short notice, then I can sort something for you.”

At that, all of Merlin’s racing, terrifying thoughts, stutter to a stop, and he looks at Leon with nothing but confusion on his face. He tilts his head slightly, asking, ever so eloquently:

“...What?”

Leon sends a soft smile and a knowing wink his way:

“Or, you know, the back up of a noble in court, or an alibi, I can do that to. I have a feeling that, considering you haven’t done a runner yet, you’re planning on sticking around.”

Merlin just furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly in bewilderment:

“I... Leon I have no idea what you’re talking about. What do you mean, done a runner? Why would I need your help in court or... or an alibi??”

Leon just raises an eyebrow, and tilts his head.

Merlin copies him.

A look of realisation crosses the blonde’s face, and he lifts his hands in surrender:

“Ah. Ok, before I say anything else, I promise Merlin, you are entirely safe. I would protect you with my life if I had to-”

Merlin slowly nods, still confused:

“-I know about your magic.”

Merlin gasps and steps back, but Leon just smiles at him again, nodding his head slightly; it does nothing to relax the servant, and his breathing continues to get deeper as he backs himself against the wall, tears filling his eyes.

Leon frowns, his heart cracking slightly, but resists the protective urge to walk towards Merlin to comfort him. Instead he takes a step back, not lowering his hands. Before he can open his mouth to utter more reassurances, a tirade of broken, cracking apologies fall from Merlin’s lips:

“I... Leon I swear I’m not evil, I... I don’t hurt people, I promise. Please, you... please believe me, I would NEVER-”

Leon interrupts him, shaking his head rapidly, and forcing a reassuring smile on his face:

“I know. Merlin, I know that. I know you’re not evil, I know that you use it to protect us, I know. It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone, you’re not in danger, I would NEVER hurt you, or tell anyone, ok? I swear it. You’re safe with me.”

Merlin gulps, but relaxes (only slightly, but it’s a start. Leon doesn’t know why he’s so surprised at Merlin’s reaction, I suppose he thought he had been clear in his brotherly affection and protectiveness towards the younger man. Apparently not; he would have to fix that). He gives Leon an assessing once over, and it strikes the knight how efficient he is. He wonders how many times Merlin’s eyes have flicked over someone: checking their face for any sign of deception, checking how close their hands are to a weapon, checking their stance to see if they’re preparing for a fight.

Leon stays in place, forcing himself to untense, and giving Merlin a weak smile, hoping that the servant doesn’t mistake his slight heartbreak for fear or anger.

After a few moments, Merlin relaxes even further (though is still understandably ready to bolt at a moment’s notice), and steps away from the wall, Leon’s smile widens, and he nods once again, patiently waiting for Merlin to say something:

“You... you offered to smuggle me out of the city?”

Leon nods, glancing to the door behind him before gesturing Merlin to keep his voice down as he replies cryptically:

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

The servant gulps, giving the knight an assessing gaze, magic buzzing under his skin, alert and frightened at the idea of a Red Knight other than Lancelot knowing the truth:

“You’ve smuggled others out?”

Leon nods and moves ever so slowly to sit on the edge of his bed, still holding his hands up placatingly. He doesn’t gesture for Merlin to join him, understanding the other man’s remaining jumpiness, but leaves space next to him, just in case.

Merlin hesitates for only a second before settling on the bed next to him, forcing himself to relax. The knight wasn’t currently armed, and anyway, if Leon had been planning on accusing him or attacking him, then he wouldn’t be doing this. None of what he said could, in any way, make sense as some sort of trick.

Once Merlin settles, still a little uneasy, Leon begins his explanation in a quiet voice, obviously still worried about startling Merlin (and obviously not wanting to risk someone overhearing him):

“It started when I was fifteen. One of the serving girls in my father’s household was born with magic, though it didn’t manifest until years after the purge started. She was my age, sweet, kind, I couldn’t possibly believe her to be evil or corrupt, but under The King’s law, she would’ve been burned. Poor girl was terrified of being found out, but Uther was so paranoid, they were basically interrogating anyone who entered or exited the city; she had nowhere to go. I had already started my training at this point, so I used my knowledge of guard rotations and shift changes to sneak her out. I left her with some family in a village nearer the border, snuck back in a few days later. From then on it just... kept happening. I suppose I got good at recognising the specific brand of fear that magic-users in Camelot suffer from, and I’ve got a good eye; I know magic when I see it-”

He gives Merlin a knowing look, but the servant just turns indignant and says:

“Well, I was also born with magic, and it took you ten years to figure it out, so-”

He sticks his tongue out at the knight, and Leon raises his eyebrow at him, before laughing and nodding, thankful for Merlin’s lessening fear:

“-yeah, I suppose. But still. It started off with just the occasional person; one or two a month. And then it was whole families or groups of people who either had magic, or were scared of being accused and wanted out. It became a bit of a side-career, though I always refused any payment they offered.”

Merlin stares at him, thoughtful and in awe, before yet another look of realisation crosses his face:

“Is this why the Druids are so fond of you?”

Finally, it’s Leon’s turn to look confused, and Merlin continues:

“Whenever we come across them, they always seem less wary of you than the other knights, like they know what you’ve done.”

Leon takes in slow breath, quirking his eyebrows slightly and shrugging:

“I’ve never really noticed, maybe. I’ve never been into a camp, but when someone I was sneaking out had nowhere to go, I’d take them as close to a Druid settlement as I dared, and pointed them in the right direction; I suppose word might’ve spread.”

Merlin nods, looking to his lap, thinking. Leon stays silent, understanding that this is probably a lot to take in, and not wanting to interrupt Merlin’s processing time. 

After a few moments, Merlin, still staring into his lap, reaches across to Leon and takes the knight’s hand in a shaking one of his own. It’s then that Leon notices the slow tears on the other man’s face, but before he can say anything, Merlin looks up at him, his voice shaking as he whispers a rough:

“Thank you.”

Leon smiles, squeezing his hand and bumping their shoulders together:

“Anytime. Like I said Merlin, I would protect you with my life. If you ever need anything...”

Merlin takes a deep breath, standing and wiping the tears from his face quickly before dragging Leon to the door:

“There is one thing. Come on.”

Leon allows himself to be dragged, and Merlin moves the chair to the side before stepping out of the way, allowing Leon to unlock the door with the key hanging around his neck. He doesn’t question where they’re going, though he is slightly confused when he notices that they’re heading deeper into the castle, as opposed to outside or to Merlin’s chambers like he was expecting.

They finally come to a stop outside Lancelot’s door, and Leon nods to himself in realisation. He had suspected that the other knight had known the truth, but hadn’t wanted to ask or push it in case he was wrong.

Merlin knocks rapidly after checking the corridor for other people, and the door had barely been opened before he’s pushing his way through, still dragging Leon behind him. The two men move to stand by the opposite wall, Lancelot still by the door looking increasingly confused:

“Merlin, Leon, is... is everything alright?”

Merlin waves his hand casually, not even needing an incantation as his eyes flash briefly gold and the door shuts of it’s own accord (... or Merlin’s accord).

Lancelot immediately gasps and makes a jump for the sword sat on the table, but Leon holds his hands up in surrender as Merlin rushes to speak:

“Lance it’s fine!! Leon knows about my magic, and he’s been smuggling people out of Camelot for decades, he’s safe.”

Lancelot looks to Leon with a mix of suspicion and relief, still picking the sword up and holding it loosely in one hand, but the older knight is too distracted staring at Merlin in mild outrage:

“Dec- How old do you think I am, Merlin?!”

Merlin looks up at him guiltily, and Lancelot lets go of his suspicion, instead clamping his free hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing at Merlin’s squeaked reply:

“Uh... there’s no safe way to answer that, is there? You said you were fifteen when you started, and I know you’re older than Arthur, so...”

Leon scoffs, rolling his eyes as Lancelot snorts:

“I’m only five years older than him, Merlin. I’m thirty-one, you can say “decades” plural when I hit thirty-five, and not a day sooner.”

Merlin holds in a smirk, and nods. Lancelot clears his throat, dropping the sword back on the table and asking the obvious question:

“So... how much does he know?”

Merlin spends the rest of the night explaining everything, from Kilgharrah calling to him when he first arrived, (”You mean that thing was under the castle the whole time?!”) to just last week, when he had to sneak out of the city to deal with a particularly insatiable Succubus that was causing problems with the border patrols (”Huh. I wondered why the men had just... stopped disappearing. I’m not complaining though, thank you.”).

He included all the information about the prophecies and being Emrys and how Arthur was the Once and Future King and the coming (potential) Golden Age. Leon was especially curious about that, and interrupted often to ask questions.

Lancelot also interrupted rather often, but only to correct Merlin when he underappreciated his own genius or power or selflessness, much to Merlin’s embarrassment and annoyance.

Merlin also tried to miss out as much of his own suffering as he could, but Lancelot wasn’t having it, and Leon was horrified to learn of the Serket sting, the countless, almost fatal fights he’d had with various people (Nimueh, The Cailleach (”I did also wonder how the veil just... repaired itself. Nice one.”), Morgause, Agravaine, etc (Morgana is good in this, though her magic is still hidden)), and all the other terrible things that had happened.

When he finally finishes, Leon is speechless.

The knight had just thought that Merlin had learned a few tricks to keep himself and Arthur safe when they went out and about, but he was actually, apparently, the most powerful Warlock ever, and had a whole series of prophecies and battle scars to back it up. Lancelot’s face was an odd mix of prideful and mournful, and that only drove home to Leon how much Merlin had suffered over the years.

After a few minutes of silence, Merlin awkwardly waiting, as if for judgement, Lancelot pipes up, his voice oddly cheery:

“So, Sir Leon, fancy two extra sets of hands in the little smuggling ring you’ve got going?”

~

And that is essentially... exactly what happens. 

It’s usually Leon who discovers the sorcerers, being the most observant of the three, but it’s Merlin they send on the first approach more often than not. Leon had always been painfully aware of how scary a Camelot Knight going “I know you have magic” must be, so the trio takes advantage of Merlin’s non-threatening look. That, paired with the fact that he’s well known and well loved around the town, makes starting things off a lot easier.

A lot of the time, the people they approach don’t want to leave. They’ve kept themselves hidden for over twenty years, and they plan to continue to do so, but it’s a weight off their back to know that the option is there if they need it.

Merlin introduces Leon to the tunnels under the city, hidden and warded with his magic. The older knight is very much relieved at that; taking advantage of gaps in guard rotations wasn’t the most reliable plan, and he’d been paranoid for years that something would go wrong one day and he’d get caught.

They worked well together, though all three of their lives got a lot more complicated. Lancelot and Merlin were pulled into Leon’s secret smuggling life (despite him insisting that they could sit it out, considering they were already so busy trying to keep Arthur alive, which is apparently a lot harder than Leon had first assumed), and Leon was pulled into Merlin and Lancelot’s secret “bring about the Golden Age” life (despite the two of them insisting that Leon didn’t need to help, considering he was already so busy running a smuggling ring right under the nose of the King).

To be honest, the two lives sort of swirled together. Anyone that they sent to the Druid camps was told to spread the word of the Once and Future King, and when Leon was sent to distract Arthur when Lancelot and Merlin needed to do something Magicky, Lancelot was sent to distract Arthur when Leon and Merlin needed to do something smuggly.

Eventually Gaius finds out. Because of course he does. Because he’s not stupid. And whilst the three of them are unwilling to put him in anymore danger than he’s already in (harbouring a Warlock is... pretty dangerous. Though Arthur would probably forgive the older man anything.), they never turn away the small, portable medkits he passes along to them, and don’t complain when he offers to talk to Arthur about a promising new treatment for the flu for a few hours.

But overall, they have a proper little (unpaid) enterprise going, and no one suspects a thing. 

~

Mistakes are made of course, some a little bigger that others. But most of them get a laugh from the trio when they think back on them later.

Ironically enough, this mistake came when the trio mistook a “need to save Arthur” problem, for a “need to save this poor scared sorcerer” problem.

They’d been getting complacent. No one had tried to kill Arthur directly in a while, so when a visiting Lord brought with him a very nervous, very secretive stablehand, they didn’t even consider that it would be the young servant who wanted to kill Arthur as opposed to the visiting noble (who was an arsehole, and therefor automatically under suspicion).

Merlin, being the most powerful of the three of them, was keeping an eye on the noble; trying to keep him away from Arthur as well as trying to figure out if he knew that his stablehand was a magic-user. Leon was distracting Arthur, with the help of a report Gaius had written, by talking endlessly about certain weaknesses in the knight’s armour and the injuries that Gaius treats most often and the link between the two.

That left Lancelot to trail the stablehand, whose name they had discovered was Alban. He wasn’t wearing any armour and didn’t have a sword, only a small dagger up his sleeve, so as not to frighten the boy.

Which of course was a huge mistake.

Considering how innocent Merlin looks, but how dangerous he actually is, they really shouldn’t have underestimated the boy, but alas, with how well both of the secret lives had been going, their egos had grown, and they weren’t as careful as they should’ve been.

It was only after the Lord had retired to his chambers (and Merlin had come to the annoying conclusion that he was an arsehole, but certainly not smart enough to be dangerous), and Leon had exhausted every possible line of enquiry about armour and injuries, that the two of them thought something might be wrong.

It had been hours since they had heard from Lancelot, and by the sounds of it, no one had seen him in that time either.

The stablehand also couldn’t be found.

They tried not to assume the worst; all of them (Merlin, most often) had disappeared for longer before, so before they panicked, the two of them went about methodically searching for the other knight.

The wards down in the tunnels hadn’t been disturbed, Lancelot’s room was untouched (the sight of his armour and sword laid out on his bed did nothing to quell their growing anxiety), and no one had seen him leave the city. The Camelot stablehands had no idea where the visiting servant was, and had apparently barely seen him in the stables since he’d arrived anyway.

Now it was time to panic.

The two men rushed back to Lancelot’s room, shutting the door behind them, Merlin hurriedly asking:

“What’s the last thing he touched, do you reckon?”

Leon raked his hands through his hair for the dozenth time, looking around with wide eyes:

“Uh... we had training this morning, and he took his armour off after that, and immediately went to follow Alban, so his armour? His sword?”

Merlin picks the sword up in careful but hurried hands. He closes his eyes, concentrating, as he mutters a quick spell. The sword shimmers for a moment before Merlin throws it back down on the bed with a huff:

“Nope, the trail is there but it’s weak, I need something more recent.”

Leon curses quietly to himself:

“Try his water goblet? Or the wash bowl? God knows that man doesn’t like to be grimy.”

Merlin hums, walking to the wash bowl before halting in his tracks:

“Wait... no, you’re right. He doesn’t like being dirty,-”

With that, Merlin changes direction, heading to the small desk in the corner and opening the draws at random, rifling through them. Leon walks up behind him:

“Merlin? What are you-”

He’s interrupted by Merlin exclaiming in victory, and straightening up. He turns around with a grin on his face, holding out a small comb:

“-he will have run a comb through his hair after washing,-”

He pulls a short, brunette hair from between the wooden teeth:

“-and an actual piece of him is WAY better to track him with than something he’s just touched.”

He repeats the spell from earlier, the smile returning to his face when he begins to feel the pull in his heart, leading him to the lost knight.

The two of them leave the room hurriedly, Leon trailing after Merlin, both of them trying to look an inconspicuous as possible.

They walk briskly down the corridor, hope and excitement blooming in their chests at the idea of finding the friend they’d been so worried about. Leon puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but neither of them stop moving as he speaks lowly:

“Can you tell how far away he is?”

Merlin hums, before replying equally quietly:

“Yeah, I think he’s about... actually... no, no I can’t- what?”

With that, he stops dead in his tracks, stumbling when Leon runs into his back with a gentle “oof”. The knight looks down at him, his face back to looking panicked. They’d stopped at a crossroads in the corridor, and Merlin’s head twitches from side to side, like he can’t decide which way to go.

Leon shakes his shoulder slightly:

“Merlin, he’s been gone for hours, we need to hurry. Close your eyes, breathe, which way is Lancelot?”

Merlin does what Leon says, shuffling on his feet slightly before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and relaxing his shoulders:

“Where are you, Lance?”

He mutters it quietly to himself, and Leon barely dares to breathe, not wanting to distract him. After a few moments, Merlin’s head twitches to the right, the corridor that leads to the servant quarters. The servant opens his eyes, nodding briefly at Leon, before turning and walking down the corridor. 

He passes the first few doors without hesitation, thankful for the late hour; all the servants are either eating their own dinner, or serving dinner to their masters. Which is probably where Merlin should be right now, but he had more pressing matters, he could deal with Arthur later.

He slows as he reaches the end of the corridor, frowning in confusion. There are no more doors, they’ve reached a dead end, and Merlin tilts his head whilst Leon stares at him expectantly, periodically checking the corridor behind them. Merlin begins muttering to himself again, flexing his hands as if he were in pain:

“This is... wrong. I don’t come down here very often but... there’s... this is wrong. I can feel it and I can... see it, like there’s something out the corner of my eye that shouldn’t be there-”

He gasps, turning and looking at a specific part of the wall, hovering his hand over the stonework:

“-or something that should be there!”

Leon’s gaze flicks between the wall and Merlin as he quietly asks:

“A hidden door? Can you... unhide it?”

Merlin takes a second to snort and roll his eyes, before pressing his hand against the wall, muttering spells to himself. Leon turns around, hand on the hilt of his sword at his hip as he stands guard. After a few minutes of Merlin getting more and more frustrated when the wall stays... well... a wall, he finally lets out a whispered exclamation; Leon glances behind him to see the stone rippling, and finally fading to reveal the door. 

With one last check down the corridor, they enter the room slowly, shutting the door behind him. Leon whispers Lance’s name into the darkness tentatively, but Merlin just shakes his head, summoning a light.

It’s just a normal storage room filled with dusty shelves and empty crates, but Merlin moves through the debris to the back, cursing under his breath when he finds what he’s looking for. Leon moves up behind him, staring over the younger man’s shoulder to the precise symbol drawn onto the floor:

“Merls?”

Merlin huffs speaking lowly, not looking away from the symbol:

“It’s a teleportation spell, it’s why I was being pulled in two directions. Lance went through this portal, but it probably took him somewhere outside the city limits.”

Leon gulps, before taking a deep breath and gripping Merlin’s shoulder again:

“Can you activate it? Do we follow through the portal, or track him out of the city??”

Merlin shakes his head roughly:

“No, that would take far too long, we don’t actually know how long he’s been gone, it could have been all afternoon, remember? Look around, there should be a crystal or an orb or something, like a switch I have to push magic into to activate the spell.”

It only takes a few minutes of rummaging for Leon to uncover a rough looking crystal, and Merlin smiles weakly at the comically fearful look on the knight’s face as he holds it as far away from himself as he can; he may trust Merlin’s magic, but he is still logically... unnerved by things he doesn’t understand.

Merlin takes it from him, eyes turning briefly gold as he mutters an incantation and his hand is engulfed in a blue flame. The flame dies down after a few seconds at Merlin’s command, and he hides the now glowing crystal back where Leon had found it, before looking back to the symbol on the floor.

It takes only a few moments for the lines to start softly glowing, and when nothing else changes, Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him blindly for Leon’s hand, and muttering:

“Well, here goes nothing.”

He feels the knight take his hand and step up next to him. With one last nervous glance to each other, they nod, and step into the circle.

~

MEANWHILE

Thankfully, whilst Lancelot hadn’t been seen in a while (on account of being camped out in the hidden storage room, waiting for his stalkee to reappear out of the weird glowy circle thing), he had only actually been kidnapped by Evil Alban the Not-Stablehand for about half a candle mark.

And he was currently very bored. The younger man finally reappeared, only to fly into a rage at the sight of another man, crouched like a gremlin, almost asleep in the corner of the entrance to his secret lair.

His eyes had flashed sickly yellow, and Lancelot found himself falling over the edge into sleep, and waking up an undetermined amount of time (like five minutes, but it was so fucking dark where he was, he had no way to guess what time of day it was) later, tied to a chair (not gagged, thankfully).

He had realised the trio’s mistake fairly early on in Evil Alban the Not-Stablehand’s monologue; something about vengeance and sins of the father and yadda yadda yadda. Honestly? He tuned it out pretty quickly, he’d heard it all before... multiple times, and he wasn’t too worried; he had faith that Merlin and Leon would arrive to rescue him soon (though he wasn’t looking forward to all the comments along the lines of “who’s the real princess?”).

It was when he almost nodded off that Alban stuttered slightly:

“...after all, surely someone who is strong enough to take the crown should... should deserve... it... are you falling asleep?!”

Lancelot’s head whips up with a quiet snort as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, and looks at the outraged criminal with guilt in his eyes:

“Uh... no? You’re doing wonderfully, Alban, very riveting, keep going.”

The knight’s words do nothing to calm the other man down, and he exclaims slightly as he stamps his foot petulantly. Lancelot bites his lip to stop himself laughing, but before he can get himself under control and say something else, Alban puffs his chest out and grins triumphantly:

“Your mind games shan’t work on me, Sir Knight. I will not be distracted by your mocking or... or distractions.”

Lancelot raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Alban huffs, shaking his head roughly before looking back at Lancelot with wide, expectant eyes:

“Well? What do you think of my plan, noble Sir? Ineffable, no?”

Lancelot purses his lips, once again looking guilty as he chooses not to point out the younger’s misuse of the word ineffable (definitely NOT ineffable, considering he’d banged on and on for half a candle-mark):

“I don’t suppose you could... sum up the last twenty minutes or so worth of... plan? Then I could.... let you know my thoughts?”

Alban let out an inhuman screech, stamping his foot again, much to Lancelot’s hidden amusement. The Great Villain stalked off into the darkness, huffing and grumbling to himself, and Lancelot just rolled his eyes, murmuring under his breath:

“For fucks sake. Better not leave me here. Where the fuck are you guys?”

As if the Gods themselves answered the knight’s question, he hears another inhuman screech come from the darkness; though this one was a lot more high pitched, and was immediately followed by Leon’s unmistakable voice growling out:

“Where is he you pre-pubescent piece of shit?!”

Lancelot allows himself to snort at the likely look of terror on the Not-Stablehand’s face before yelling:

“Don’t make the kid shit himself Leon, if he does, you’ll be the one carrying his unconscious body back.”

He hears Merlin’s laugh and the distinct sound of a skull making contact with the hilt of a sword, before the two of them appear like ghosts, lit only by the glow of Merlin’s golden eyes, and the magical light floating between their heads.

Lancelot gives them a grin, shuffling in his binds slightly as he says:

“Took you long enough, he’s been banging on about how clever he is for fucking ages. Cut me loose, would you?”

Merlin clicks his fingers, the ropes falling the the floor as Leon checks him over for injury, and affectionately ruffling his hair, much to the other knight’s chagrin.

The three of them move to crowd around Alban’s crumpled form, hands on their hips as they stare at him, unimpressed. Lancelot sighs:

“You really didn’t have to hit him that hard, I don’t think he was that much of a threat.”

Merlin huffs and stalks off to reactivate the teleportation spell, leaving the chastising for Leon to deal with:

“Not much of a threat?! Lance no one had seen you in hours, we thought you were dead!”

Lancelot frowns and shuffles, suddenly looking apologetic:

“Ah, sorry. He took me less than a candle-mark ago, though I guess I lost track of how long I’d been sat waiting for him before that. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Leon huffs, but drops the subject as Merlin calls back to them. The curly-hired knight picks Alban up, laying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before following Lancelot in Merlin’s direction. They stand around the glowing symbol, and Lancelot rolls his eyes at Merlin’s glower:

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Mister I regularly show up after three days covered in bruises and blood with “The Tavern” as my only excuse.”

Leon snorts and Merlin rolls his eyes but smirks, and with that, the trio step into the circle, reappearing back in the storage cupboard with no one else in Camelot even vaguely aware of the mini adventure they’d had.

~

This happens for a while. Saving people (mostly Arthur) from the batshit insane things that happen in Camelot that no one but them seems to be aware of.

Of course, rumours fly about the oddly close connection the three men have. Lancelot is head over heals in love with Guinevere (which he ardently denies, despite Merlin and Leon’s repeated dramatic attempts to get them together) and everyone knows it, but even Arthur starts to (jealously) suspect something is going on between Leon and Merlin, especially when Merlin’s lack of talent when it comes to making up excuses is displayed yet again.

Leon and Merlin had been sneaking out of the castle, on their way to meet the teenage son of a noble who desperately needed to escape. Lancelot, who had a late patrol, was to meet them by one of the tunnel entrances outside the city limits, and assure that no other guards were nearby.

Unfortunately, the pair came across a sleepy King, on his way to the kitchens for a midnight snack.

The King stared at them with wide, shocked eyes, and the pair stared back. Leon grimaced slightly, and after a few moments of awkward silence, Arthur slowly asks:

“What are you two... doing?”

Leon takes a deep breath desperately trying to come up with something to say, but before he can find an excuse, Merlin pipes up:

“I was teaching him poetry.”

Leon lets out his breath before slowly covering his face with his hands as he shakes his head slightly. Merlin immediately realises his mistake and bites his lip, furrowing his eyebrows as he says:

“What I mean, is that-”

He’s cut off by Arthur holding a hand up, his face looking mildly put-off as he shakes his head:

“I don’t want to know. Yeah, I changed my mind, I really... don’t want to know.” Before turning around and heading back in the same direction he’d come from, hunger forgotten.

Merlin holds his breath until Arthur turns the corner, before letting it all out in one go and staring at the floor wide-eyed. Leon keeps his head in his hands as he mutters:

“You fucking idiot.-” before looking up at the man besides him incredulously:

“-Why??”

Merlin looks at him indignantly, and loudly whispers:

“I don’t know!! It was just the three of us in a dark corridor like last time and it just popped into my head and I said it! At least he didn’t push, I suppose.”

Leon shakes his head again, before a look of realisation crosses his face and he looks at Merlin with dread in his eyes:

“Yeah... except when you used that excuse on me- shut up, of course I knew you were lying, I’m not an idiot- I thought you and Arthur were uh... well, I thought you were sleeping together...”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he sputters for a response before he lets out a quiet, deranged laugh, and shakes his blushing head:

“First off, no. Second off... at least he didn’t push.” he repeats. Leon squints at his friend, before he gasps and grins:

“Oh my God, you like him!-”

Merlin scowls at him, and Leon laughs gleefully (though still quietly) before whispering:

“-all this time we’ve been ribbing Lancelot about Guinevere, and we should’ve been ribbing you! Oh my God, wait ‘til Lance hears this.”

Merlin turns on him, face bright red as he angrily (or as angrily as he can, when he’s the colour of Leon’s cape, and the knight is trying not to wake the castle up with his laughter):

“I swear to God, Leon, I will turn you into a fucking toad if you breath a word to anyone! I’ll do it, I swear I’ll do it!”

Leon forces himself to breath and coughs slightly as he catches his breath, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder:

“Fine, fine. I won’t say anything, but only if you help me hang mistletoe up in Lance’s doorway next week.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, but nods his head with a grin, and with that, they resume their sneaking around.

~

This happens for what feels like years and years, but really, Merlin only gets one day into looking at Leon with a shit-eating grin and saying that the old man has been doing this for “decades”, when suddenly... they don’t have to do it anymore.

Arthur repeals the ban on magic. 

And to be honest, it was a complete surprise to everyone. Of course, the whole Kingdom knew that he was more tolerant than his father had ever been; he hadn’t executed anyone in years, and unless accusations were serious or life-threatening, he rarely ordered investigations.

As it turns out, he’d been working on it in secret for months, with only  Morgana’s help (not that he knew about her magic, she was just the only person in his life who’d always been vocally against the ban). All the work they’d put in meant that when it came time to present it to the council, all Arthur had to do was hold his head high and say something along the lines of “I am your King, you do this, or you lose your seat.”.

The drafts were so well-worked, so perfect, the council had nothing to argue against, no excuses worth more than a roll of the eyes and a dismissive wave of the hand.

The repeal went through seamlessly, and Arthur was announcing Merlin and Morgana as his Court Sorcerers within a week (after of course a few hours of raging at the lies and deception, in which they defended themselves and each each other with sharp tongues and entirely valid descriptions of their terror, and with Leon and Lancelot stood behind them the whole time ready to pull their swords at a moments notice).

Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin told the King about all their adventures saving his arse, which he floundered at before abashedly thanking them, but they never mentioned the now obsolete smuggling ring they had going.

Of course, there were moments when they missed the excitement of sneaking out at night, the victory of seeing a family off to the Druid’s, or to a safe village, but ultimately they were ecstatic that they weren’t needed in that capacity anymore. It was undeniably a good thing.

Their plan to keep their heroics to themselves failed miserably however, when a crowd of around two-hundred gathered in the courtyard, led by a woman in her mid-thirties who looked mighty familiar to Sir Leon.

The gang met them down there, armed and worried at first, but quickly relaxing when they realised this was the furthest to an attack a group this large could get.

The King led the party, Morgana, Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival to his left, and Merlin, Leon, and Lancelot to his right, Guinevere and Gaius waiting by the castle entrance. It was only when Lancelot gasped, and grabbed Merlin and Leon’s sleeves to point at a specific family near the front of the crowd that they understood. All these people, all these happy, joyful, alive people... were people they’d saved over the years.

The three of them gulped, suddenly teary as more and more of the crowd pointed their way, wide smiles on their faces. They knew that this wasn’t even half the people they had saved (if you include Leon’s sixteen years doing it alone), but still, it was astounding to visually see it.

The familiar woman stepped forward at Arthur’s gesture, and the trio suddenly realise what’s about to happen. “Oh shit.” and variants of the above are muttered by all three as they wait with baited breath. There’s not really anything they can do to stop this:

“Your Highness, firstly I would like to thank you, for accepting my people back into your Kingdom-”

Her voice quietens slightly as she glances to the floor, her eyes filling with tears before she looks up again:

“-many of us haven’t been home in... in a long time, and it’s good to be back.-”

Arthur nods, giving her a smile despite his still growing confusion at the crowd behind her. The woman looks quickly to Leon, giving him a brief smile as he gasps, recognising her. She looks back to the King, raising her voice and her head as she continues:

“-Secondly, I would like to extend an even greater thank-you to Sir Leon, and his two companions, without whom many of us would have died. They risked their lives sneaking us out of the city when your father hunted us, and after, when we were still at risk of execution, but they never stopped, and never gave up. We are but a fraction of the hundreds of people they saved, and we have nothing to offer them but our unending gratitude, and a humble demand that they are rewarded for their service to Camelot’s people. They are heroes to us all, and always will be”

Arthur looks slowly over to a very teary Leon, who doesn’t even glance his way as he stares at the former servant-girl, a weak smile on his face. Merlin and Lancelot meet The King’s gaze in his stead, smiling sheepishly and shrugging as they nod, confirming the woman’s story.

Arthur shakes his head minutely, half proud of his friends, and half annoyed at being caught off guard, before turning back to the woman, the smile back on his face:

“I’m glad to welcome you home, all of you, and I apologise that it took so long for me to right the wrongs committed by this Kingdom. Sir Leon and his companions will indeed be rewarded for their service,-”

At this, Arthur turns to look at the trio, a soft, meaningful smile on his face as he nods at them:

“-and I extend my thanks to them also, for being brave enough to protect my people, when I was not.”

Leon finally meets The King’s gaze, and returns his nod. Merlin and Lancelot each clap him on the back, before the three of them descend into the crowd. A loud cheer goes up around the courtyard, the rest of the knights, Morgana, and Guinevere looking on in shock as the trio greets person after person, accepting thanks and hugs and laughing joyously at the reminder of the good they’d done, despite their fear.

~

THE END!!

I really loved writing this one😄! Honestly this idea started out as crack, but I’m glad that it ended so wholesomely :)

Same as usual lads, someone wants to write it up properly or extend it, go for it, credit and tag me ✌️

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hi! It's an au twilight question.

What if Edward and Bella did the nasty in early New moon. Then the party happens and the Cullens leave. Bella discovers she's pregnant with Renesmee. What do you think what would happen?

A very interesting question, anon. One that will go very interesting places, I'm sure.

That said, as usual, because I'm a completionist, we have to go through the "why no canon?" routine. Bear with me, I simply must.

Why Didn't Edward and Bella Do the Nasty Pre-Breaking Dawn?

For all that Edward is, for all his... questionable morals and sexual fixations, he does have a moral code he strictly holds himself to.

Edward is adamantly against having sex with Bella in terror of the very real possibility that he will murder her in the act. He's very clear about this, he didn't think he could do it, at all, and only his sheer desperation that Bella never be turned, his desire to marry Bella, as well as Alice's thumbs up convinced him to do it.

If Bella was a reasonable person then she would have agreed as well. Sex with Edward, while she's human, is a bad idea. However, Bella never really seems to clue in on what vampires even are so I think the Man of Steel on Woman of Kleenex aspect is lost on her.

Had Alice not given the green light, I imagine Edward would have gone back to the drawing board and ended up either here or here. Bella turning is the worst possible outcome and Edward will risk almost anything, even Bella's death, to see it avoided.

But that doesn't mean it's an action he takes lightly.

He suggests pimping Bella out to Jake before he suggests sleeping with her himself. For Edward, this is a last resort.

More, Edward is a man of his time.

Edward was from an upper class family and, more to the point, still holds himself to the standards of the society he knew when human (much to Bella's amusement).

Edward wistfully talks about courting Bella, how he would have courted her had he been a true man in the time period he was familiar with, and why marriage to him is so very important.

That Edward doesn't seek out the approval of Charlie, Bella's father, is a hilarious aside to me. Edward's all about chivalry until all those old society standards get in his way.

What do you mean a gentleman doesn't sneak into a lady's apartments in the middle of the night to watch her slumber unawares?!

Regardless, marriage is extremely important to Edward, especially in the context of sex.

Edward will absolutely not have sex with a woman who is not first his wife. He also will not marry a girl that society defines as underage, he will wait until Bella's legal and probably until she finishes her primary schooling.

This means Edward was never likely to have sex with her before graduation and certainly not before her eighteenth birthday.

Which, at the earliest, puts her past the New Moon birthday bash.

Edward and Bella Do the Do Anyway

But let's pretend they do it anyway.

I'd say the most likely scenario is after the birthday disaster. This is it, Edward knows he is leaving Bella forever, if he is truly noble then he will never see her again.

Certainly, he will never interact with her nor hold her in his arms. To Edward, this is essentially his last true night on Earth.

So rather than pull a partial D.E.N.N.I.S. system, Edward pulls the full D.E.N.N.I.S. system, he initiates the "I" he was previously missing, "Inspire Hope". Or, in this case, get laid for the first and only time in his life.

He sneaks in through her window. They make beautiful, passionate, tepid love so Edward does not crush her in the act, and as she sleeps blissfully in the aftermath he sneaks back out the window to never be seen again.

(It takes Bella a week to admit that Edward just hit and run. The Cullens aren't coming back.)

However, because Edward didn't actually point blank tell her what was happening, rather than hit her New Moon stage of depression, Bella's instead in denial.

The Cullens are coming back. What, Carlisle has a new job? No, that can't be right, they're coming back. Alice would never leave her without a word. Edward would never leave her without a word.

Jessica pats Bella on the back consolingly and is secretly glad that it's not her. She might have been dumped by Edward Cullen, but at least he didn't humiliate her the way he did Bella Swan.

Leaving without a single word, yikes.

Two weeks go by then Bella gets the flu.

In a single day, she's unable to keep down anything. Huh, that's weird. Very quickly, Bella has her tampon epiphany. Bella is not a virgin, she had sex with Edward, she's late, and she appears to have a baby bump.

Bella is carrying Edward's child.

There is no question of aborting the child. This is Edward's child, the only piece she has left of him, even without Renesmee's gift it's ride or die. Bella is delivering this child even if it kills her.

However, she has some immediate issues.

First, she's visibly pregnant, it's been only two weeks. That's not supposed to happen. More, Charlie is bound to notice sooner rather than later, Bella would like to avoid that, the stigma of teen pregnancy, as well as the inhuman complications that are sure to come along.

Second, there's inhuman complications. Bella can't just go to an OBGYN, not even a town over. She's carrying something half human, a doctor will poke around and find that out, and then Bella's blowing the secret.

Bella knows vaguely of the Volturi at this point, but not the severity of the law, it's more that she promised Edward she would never tell a soul.

Plus, a human doctor wouldn't be able to help anyway.

That leaves vampires.

Bella tries to call/email the Cullens. However, thanks to Edward, all their numbers are disconnected and all their emails no longer exist. Her "Alice, help, I'm pregannant" messages are sent to a void.

(Alice, meanwhile, thinks she's finally successful in blocking visions of Bella. At least Edward will be off her back. Without the cliff diving and Jake, Alice does not assume Bella has died/committed suicide.)

A brief internet survey also yields Bella no results, but it does get her a lot of vampire porn. Thanks internet.

Bella... starts to get worried.

She's getting more and more pregnant in a matter of days, Charlie is starting to notice that she can't keep anything down, and the Cullens aren't taking her phone calls.

Then, Bella has it, she remembers that weird baroque painting Carlisle had of him and those Italian vampire dudes: the Volturi. Conveniently named after the city they live in, Volterra, Italy.

Bella debates her options.

Edward told her that these are the guys who make sure that humans who know the secret disappear. Well, Bella is a human who knows the secret, that's bad. Also bad is that they eat people, Bella is a person.

On the other hand, Edward implied these guys are civilized and friends of Carlisle. That's... good? Bella isn't sure she's on good terms with the Cullens, given the whole abrupt leaving thing, but maybe they don't have to know that.

Bella debates with herself, tries to look up the Denali, and only finds the National Park. She has no idea where these guys even live, or what they even look like besides "blonde hot vampire", and she's short on time. Plus, they are close with the Cullens, so the Cullens probably did tell them "Ew, Bella, No Gross, Do Not Want".

Because the Cullens all hate her now.

Bella has some money saved up, and this is probably a one way trip, and if she doesn't go then... well, it's not looking good. Bella musters up her courage, tells Charlie some outrageous fib to explain why she's disappearing off the face of the planet, and books a flight to Rome, then Pisa, then a bus ride to Volterra.

Bella subsists completely on blue gateorade, this doesn't go well, and she vomits blue in the parking lot.

Regardless, she makes it, huzzah she is in Volterra. It's sunny out and there are no vampires. Bella wanders around the city and looks for the most vampire building she can find.

Luckily, she happens to be right, and it's the very central castle. Well done, Bella.

Bella walks in and spots a vampire. She also spots a receptionist, Bella is very confused. Never the less, Bella says the magic words, "I'm a... friend of Carlisle Cullen?"

Even though Bella doesn't have Aro's name (or any of the other Volturi for that matter), Carlisle's name does the trick. Anyone who works for Aro knows that name.

Color Aro intrigued, he will meet this pregnant woman! (Caius, meanwhile, votes that they eat her immediately out of spite.)

Well, Aro touches her hand and lo and behold she's scarily gifted. And she knows Carlisle, what a great day to be Aro.

Aro explains that everything's totally fine with her knowing the secret, it just means they have to turn her eventually, after she gives birth of course.

Bella stares at him numbly and wonders why Edward made this such a big deal if it was that easy.

Aro insists Bella start from the beginning, as in the very beginning of her life. This is weird, but Bella complies.

An hour later they get to the interesting part: Bella meets Carlisle (and Edward Cullen, Aro guesses). Aro gets to hear the whole, sordid, ridiculous tale of Bella and Edward's romance including the part where he fucked her and ran off into the night.

Aro is stunned.

He first apologizes for the Cullens behavior, they should absolutely not have abandoned her, and not turning her was completely irresponsible (what the hell was Carlisle thinking?)

He then gives the bad news, he... has never heard of anything like this.

You see, normal vampires don't have sex with humans. It isn't done.

Also, there's this thing called Immortal Children (Edward tell you about that, no? Well, he probably thought it wasn't relevant). That thing your carrying might not be a child capable of growth but an insatiable monster.

Or it could be the alien from Aliens.

There's no way to tell, really.

BUT NO NEED TO WORRY, BELLA, THEY WILL FIGURE THIS OUT.

Aro promises Bella his protection and a period of observation for the child. Bella's not sure she likes that observation part, but this seems like a pretty sweet deal otherwise.

As for what to do, well, Aro has to call in the foremost vampire medical expert. Sorry, Bella, but there's only one man for the job.

Aro sends out Demetri to find Carlisle.

Demetri shows up on Carlisle's doorstep, "Carlisle, old friend, Aro has need of you. Your son knocked up a human girl."

Carlisle blinks, blinks again, then does a thousand yard stare. My God.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Edward is already on Victoria's tail. Carlisle tries to call him, to no avail, Edward isn't taking his phone calls.

Alice and Jasper are already on their trip to hunt down Alice's past. Plus, given the Volturi, they'd be unlikely to come anyway. Carlisle sends them a message.

Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett travel to Volterra to clean up Edward's mess.

And sure enough, there's Bella, very pregnant with a child that is very much not human. Carlisle dies inside, Rosalie's on a warpath that Edward would abandon his pregnant girlfriend to the point where the only place she could turn was human drinking vampires.

Rosalie takes it upon herself to leave Edward the world's angriest voice messages until he returns her phone calls.

Aro's delighted to see Carlisle again. Even if he does have a wife now. Also, Aro claims finders keepers for Bella, Carlisle's not happy about this and less happy that Aro points out that if Edward cared so much he wouldn't be absent right now, would he?

They figure out the blood drinking thing, Carlisle desperately raids a hospital to prevent Bella from being fed the leftovers of the Volturi victims. This likely doesn't work out for him.

At the last possible moment, Edward finally picks up his phone. He learns that all he's tried to accomplish failed spectacularly. Bella is pregnant with his demon child, is literally drinking blood, and is in Vampire HQ with the leader insisting she will be turned immediately after the C-section.

Edward races to Volterra and strides into the room demanding Bella be aborted and remain human.

Aro stares.

Carlisle awkwardly explains that Bella's too far along, it's too late now even if they wanted to, more she adamantly doesn't want to abort and never did.

As for Bella being human... Bella pipes in that she's cool on becoming the vampire part. Aro's a great guy. She then races to embrace Edward, he's come back, after all this time. And he's going to be a father, isn't that wonderful?

Edward loses his mind.

And because this is Edward, I have no idea what he'll do, only it'll be utter madness. This is my best guess.

To be a little more serious, he probably tries to abort the child anyway, he mercy kills Bella and the child, or Renesmee manages to get through to him.

Given canon, it's likely the latter. Bella is convinced that her and Edward's relationship is perfect.

Aro has no idea what to think of any of this.

[whitewitch95]

alright, I'm usually over at twitter or discord spewing my thoughts and prompts, but I feel like the Merlin fandom is bigger over here, so maybe someone appreciates that

Thoughts and a fanfic prompt to s2ep07 The Witchfinder

Aredian accuses Merlin of magic bc of the amulet he placed in the physician's quarters, and from the look in his eye, presumably speculates that Gaius will "confess" that it's his - what Gaius of course does because he loves Merlin like his own son. During the episode, still-innocent Morgana is on Aredian's radar as well, just bc Gaius treated her nightmares, and we learn that although Gaius confesses, Aredian still wants to "expose Merlin and Morgana's evil deeds".

I feel like most people - once we realize that Aredian is an asshole who stages all the "sorcerer sightings" for money, and Arthur once more is more reasonable than Uther and helps Merlin save the day, who is actually doing all the work again - I feel like most people tend to forget that Aredian actually precisely accused 3 real sorcerers of sorcery. Yes, neither of them did what they'd been accused of, but nonetheless, Aredian points them out with eerie precision.

So WHAT IF Aredian actually has some weak magic himself? Like the "funny feelings" Merlin sometimes gets when he just instinctively knows shit's gonna go downhill or when he feels drawn towards other people's/being's magic? Like an actual witchfinder, you know, not skilled enough to play detective and catch sorcerers in the act, maybe not even interested in upholding the laws against sorcery or not, just as long as he gets payment and fame - but what if he makes those seemingly random *finger point* "THAT BOY" accusations that nobody ever questions bc of his own weak magic that makes him sensitive for it?

Okay, so now comes the prompt idea. We all probably laughed when cheeky Merlin exposes Aredian with that toad coming out of his mouth on top of everything else, but imagine he doesn't bc that would be too obvious and instead just places the "fake" evidence in his room - that would leave Aredian the opportunity to use his mouth.

So what if, while Arthur and the knights are searching the room, Aredian thunders that "THAT BOY placed this here, HE'S the sorcerer, you have EVIL IN YOUR CASTLE" and Arthur only scoffs because please, that man is just ridiculous. And then, like *Merlin* did in the actual episode, *Aredian* turns away, half-hidden from view, whispers a spell that has Merlin's magic reacting, body spasming and eyes golden.

And Merlin is just standing there, struggling to hold his magic inside and not have it lashing out, and Aredian is smirking bc there's no way to explain that away, surely he has won now-

And Arthur whirls around, punching Aredian in the face, yelling at his knights about stuffing that man's mouth with a cloth before he says any more spells, and when Aredian fights them bc he finally realizes he's about to lose and then moves towards Morgana, Arthur runs him through with his sword.

Aredian is dead.

Merlin is still breathing hard, even though his magic has settled once again, and while everyone is shocked and panting and Arthur assures himself of Morgana's wellbeing, Merlin is On Edge. Because that was his actual magic reacting, and his own eyes turning golden in response to the spell, and a room full of knights, and Morgana, and Arthur were watching.

But when they all return to Uther, Arthur relays the story and it sounds as if Aredian, traitor of Camelot and apparently an evil sorcerer that has sent innocent people into their death, has enchanted Merlin to look as if he had magic, JUST like he did with hiding that amulet in Gaius chambers, to put the blame onto someone else.

Nobody questions it, not even Uther.

Merlin feels the tightness in his chest lessen, finally able to breathe normally again. He wants to laugh, really. Arthur is SO CONVINCED that his manservant is nothing more than a bumbling, but highly loyal idiot - and he has tried to protect Merlin, he remembers, right in front of Aredian and Uther and the whole court - that Arthur doesn't even consider Merlin could actually have magic.

When the day winds down, Merlin helps Arthur getting ready for bed, serving him dinner, tidying his chambers, still tired and wary, but incredibly relieved.

Until Arthur says, "So, Merlin," and Merlin freezes because that tone sounds chilling. Carefully, he straightens up and looks at Arthur, who's watching him with frighteningly intense eyes, gaze piercing. "Anything you have to say?"

"Uhm," Merlin hesitates, unsure what exactly Arthur means, heart beating wildly. "I don't know what you mean, Sire," he settles on, but that seems to be the wrong thing to say.

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'thank you', but I know manners aren't your strong suit, so how about the truth?"

"The truth?" Merlin laughs nervously, dear god, he shouldn't have let his guard down-

"YES, Merlin, the truth," Arthur growls, and then he's out of his chair, stomping towards Merlin. "Because I can assure you, this was the last time I've lied to my knights and my father and the entire court for you if you don't even have it in you to tell me the TRUTH!"

Arthus has him cornered against the bedpost now, and Merlin is trembling ever so slightly. Arthur's eyes are blazing, like a blue, furious thunderstorm, and Merlin knows there's no escaping this; especially because Arthur is right.

So he talks. He's hesitant at first, reinforcing that everything they found out about Aredian is the truth, that Merlin did not lie, that he did not *once* betray Arthur, or Camelot. Arthur looks as if he isn't sure if he fully believes Merlin, but he listens, and that is more than Merlin could've hoped for.

In the end, Merlin's voice is rough from talking, his face pale and tight with worry. Arthur has stepped back from him a while ago, first crossing his arms and snapping out questions, and then he started pacing.

"I swear," Merlin says lowly, "I never intended to bring anyone harm. I was born like this... and I have finally found a purpose."

"And what would that be, Merlin?" Arthur asks, but he doesn't sound harsh; he sounds tired, staring into the flames of the fireplace.

Merlin gulps. Now or never. "Protecting you. I- I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to have to choose. Because no matter the outcome... it would've burdened you."

Still staring into the flames, Arthur laughs humorlessly. "And yet it seems I did it anyway."

At Merlin's silence, Arthur finally turns, and he almost looks sick. "Does Gaius know?"

"Yes," Merlin whispers, but he's not afraid that Arthur will punish Gaius for it. Arthus isn't Uther.

"Of course," Arthur mumbles, and his eyes show that he's working through what he's heard so far. "How could he not know? After all, a quite powerful warlock is living with him."

Shifting uncomfortably, Merlin wonders if there's anything he can say to make it easier for anyone, but there are no words he can think of.

Arthur scoffs, shaking his head. "That... that can't be..." he trails off, and he's reeling more than Merlin has ever seen him before. "That would mean-"

Abruptly, Arthur turns away, aiming for his chair, before he whirls around again and once more stomps towards Merlin.

"If you're telling the truth," Arthur snaps, and there's a threatening expression on his face, before it softens at Merlin's flinch. "Then why aren't you affected by the magic? Why do you still want to protect me, so much so that you're putting yourself at risk everyday?"

"I," Merlin starts, unsure. "I told you, I think... that you'll be a great king, and I-"

Arthur shakes his head. "No," he interrupts. "Why is the magic not tainting you? Why... why are you still you?" he finishes, quieter.

Merlins heart feels incredibly tender. "Because magic is just a tool, Arthur. Like sword fighting. A tool that some people can use, and some can't. A tool that sometimes is used for good, and sometimes for evil. Having magic says nothing about a person - but the way they use it does."

Silence, only the crackling of the fire can be heard as Merlin watches Arthur's face, seeing the emotions flit over it, the horrible realization. "Then..."

Merlin doesn't say anything. This is a conclusion Arthur should draw, alone, without Merlin's influence.

Arthur looks up, and the light of a candle reflects in his eyes. He looks vulnerable. Pleading. Incredibly young.

Merlin waits as Arthur turns away once more, running a hand through his golden hair, shoulders tense.

"If it's alright with you," Merlin carefully starts, "I'd look after Gaius now. He's gone through hell these past few days."

"Yes, yes," Arthur agrees, sounding crumpled under the weight of tonight's revelations. "Please pass on my well wishes to him again. What happened to him was... unjust." He gets hung up on that word apparently, because he repeats it under his breath, like a death sentence. "Unjust."

Tentatively, Merlin steps towards Arthur, but he doesn't know if it will be welcome right now.

"Goodnight, Sire."

The door has almost closed behind Merlin when he hears the faint "Goodnight" in return. He smiles. Maybe, just maybe, the horrors since the witchfinder arrived are leading the way to their destiny.

Addition: Maybe, because Arthur's actually kind of smart, he realized that Merlin has magic earlier, but tried to convince himself that he hasn't. And maybe Arthur puts two and two together about the witchfinder having actual magic, and he asks Merlin about Morgana. And maybe that would save her, and the kingdom, and ultimately himself. Just saying.

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 1)

Last Time: With a little help from Susato, the lady in pink, we discovered that Miss Brett poisoned Dr Wilson with Curare, a fast acting poison that’s only effective when introduced into the blood stream. In a last ditch attempt to avoid justice, Miss Brett destroyed the evidence right in front of the court, but fortunately my man Hosonaga was on hand with new evidence he’d taken from the crime scene, meaning that all we had to do was catch the thief of a rare golden coin, and tie Miss Brett up with her own words! At last I (Ryunosuke) was acquitted!

...only to find out in the lobby that Miss Brett has managed to privilege her way out of any consequences and was gone like smoke in the wind. (Also Kazuma used his sword in a way I found very hot, and I think I’ve accidentally doomed him to death or moral corruption.)

I’m 90% sure The Speckled Band is a Sherlock Holmes case, and I’m 49% sure it’s one of the ones I’ve read. I’m guessing this is where we’ll meet The Great Himbo Detective Herlock Sholmes then!

Well I guess that answers that then.

(And yes, I have read this one)

HERLOCK!

And he’s voiced by Professor Layton maybe???

Ooh, this seems like a Study in Scarlet, are we doing a Study in Scarlet guys?

Herlock has a magic gun!?!

Also I’m not digging this Japanese scripture and talk of it being penned by ‘the victim himself’. Kazuma what did I tell you about leaving my sight?

Wait... I could have sworn I just saw Hosonaga dressed as a sailor...

Oh balls, am I about to be accused of murder again?

Honestly I can’t take you anywhere Ryunosuke

Well Ryunosuke, you remember how you went to a lovely restaurant and got arrested for a murder you didn’t commit?

Well, it’s just like that but substitute restaurant for ship.

Also I’m not liking how little I’ve seen of Kazuma...

Ryunosuke we really need to have a talk about you just saying what people want to hear.

ITS FUCKING KAZUMA ISN’T IT?!

:(

Nononononononono

I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming, Ace Attorney law dictated it was coming as soon as it set Kazuma up as both my mentor and best friend.

But even so, I thought they were just empty threats! I didn’t think they’d actually follow through! Or that we might at least enjoy Herlock Sholmes ad his magic gun together first.

I realise I’m stalling here, but maybe if I just don’t click I’ll not have to see his body.

Sailor Man, I understand that you’re very upset, we all are, but I need you to understand that I’m grieving here.

The man I love took one look at the morally compromised shits I’m normally into and decided he’d rather die than join them! And yes I know I’m still stalling and not taking this as seriously as I should because I still don’t believe it!

See, me and Ryunosuke are on the same page!

I didn’t Susato, but the problem is that you and I have only just met and I’m not very convincing!

:(

Kazuma you legend! I refuse to believe you are dead until I see your corpse.

Now Ryunosuke’s all: I can’t believe they tossed your case around that much. I thought I was going to die.

And Kazuma’s telling me he’s just amazed I fitted inside his trunk in the first place.

Kazuma you can’t be gone! Who else will condescendingly tell me to go to France and ask rather than translate a French label for me?

Now Kazuma’s telling me (Ryunosuke) that I’m going to have to live in his cabin for the next 50 days.

Also we’ve got to keep this from Susato because we’re breaking the law and Kazuma doesn’t want us to take her down with us.

Lol, every day I get shoved into the wardrobe by an uncaring Kazuma!

Oh, that’s what the message said!

God knows what the steward thought Kazuma was keeping in his wardrobe though

:(

See Ryunosuke, this is why we think before we speak.

I don’t envy the real killer when Susato gets hold of them.

From what I can find out it’s a locked room mystery, and the cause of death is still undetermined, so I’m guessing something like poison then rather than an obvious thing, like being stabbed with his big sword.

On one hand, I really hope it wasn’t something like Curare, because I don’t want Kazuma to have gone out like that, but on the other hand poison would explain why the killer didn’t need to be in the room when he died and why Kazuma didn’t strike them down with said big sword.

Ok, so Kazuma, legend that he was, got up every day at the crack of dawn to do sword training. And Susato, who I’m begging to suspect is incredibly hardcore, go up before him so she could go and wait for him outside.

Now that’s interesting.

The two of them seem like they were pretty close, so there’s a good chance it’s just that she’s so familiar with Kazuma’s habits that she can tell the second something’s off, or it could be that there’s some other reason we need to work out.

If that’s correct that means Kazuma was killed in the small hours of the morning.

You know up ‘til now I’ve been assuming Ryunosuke was knocked out or something, and that’s why he was unconscious in the wardrobe, but now I’m starting to think he might have just been sleeping in there.

:((

Wait why’d Kazuma write in Russian?

Like I’d buy that he might know it, but I don’t buy that’s it’s what he’d write in in his finger moments.

Well that proves my innocence then, all we need to do is get some witnesses to verify the ‘go to France and ask’ moment from the last case

Oh ok, I didn’t manage to screenshot it, but it seems that I (Ryunosuke) didn’t put myself in the wardrobe. That’s very odd.

I can see a vent up there, so maybe someone gassed us and then got in while we were asleep and set up the crime scene.

Kazuma said I should come, next question

Ryunosuke, with some of the words that come out of your mouth I don’t think you should be throwing stones.

Love?

Apparently not.

This is going to be something ominous isn’t it...

I’m starting to feel like Kazuma knew he’d never see England.

Kazuma how many toes did you tread on?

Oh fucking hell!

You can’t die and be heading down a dark moral path, that’s not fair!

Yeah, I want to know that too.

Ah

So my poison/drugging theory seems to be holding up. Apparently Kazuma bought me something to eat, I climbed into the hiding wardrobe, and then it’s lights out from there.

Given that I didn’t wake up when Kazuma was killed I’m going to say that also back that theory up. Even if it was silent I feel like Ryunosuke would have woken up if someone was going round the cabin knocking ink bottles over and killing Kazuma.

No, don’t blame yourself Ryunosuke!

It’s my fault really, if I was going to  find Kazuma hot I should have made sure I could manifest inside my switch and protect him!

Ah, of course! Isn’t her dad a professor of pathology? And she seems like the sort of person who picks things up pretty quickly!

In other words, if this is a poisoning, she could be the perfect person to be partnered up with.

:(((

Susato is fully prepared to kick our ass if we try and leave, and as the woman who got up before Kazuma, I think we should listen to her.

:(((((

I say we team up as an investigative duo and catch this bastard!

Yeah!

SHE FUCKED US UP!!!

Susato didn’t come here to play! Especially when we might have killed Kazuma!

(Editors note: this isn’t a bad screenshot, Susato genuinely made Ryunosuke’s vision go blurry)

I know we need to investigate, but my god this woman’s got a fist to match her convictions.

You know when I first met Susato I was a bit afraid she was going to be the inverse of Maya to the point of being meek and shy.

Now I see what a fool I was.

Susato might be prepared to politely follow the rules, but woe betide you if you break them.

She’s even named it!

Again I know this is bad for us but GO SUSATO!

(God damn it you can’t all be my favourite characters)

Her own special martial arts form Ryunosuke!

And just like that she regathers her composure and carries on as if nothing had happened!

I like how she’s still just standing over me.

Ok Ryunosuke let’s go!

(Seriously though we don’t want her as an enemy)

Ah of course, Kazuma stuck the seal on the wardrobe, and the fact Herlock Sholmes (the himbo detective) had to pull it off means I didn’t leave!

No one respects poor Ryunosuke...

So it seems that Susato doesn’t believe we’re innocent just yet, but as we’ve presented the possibility of doubt before her she will let us investigate this room.

Given the buck wild nature of the last trial she was involved in, I honestly can’t blame her for not ruling this possibility out. After all if this was something a witness in a trial had said I’d be thinking the same thing.

Susato’s going to be watching us to make sure we don’t disturb the crime scene, which again is fair.

I’ve got to say, I’m really digging Susato’s cautiously suspicious and sensible nature. It feels like a good counterbalance to Ryunosuke’s beautiful but naïve outlook on life.

I bet if Susato had stowed away onboard a ship you wouldn’t catch her immediately confessing as soon as a sailor started to press her.

Who am I kidding, Susato would never have got into this situation in the first place.

*sob*

Ok so far we’ve got:

A) Half a pink kimono fastener on the floor next to a brick red mark

B) One disturbed table, with the remains of our roast chicken dinner on the floor

C) The terrible knowledge that Kazuma spent his last night on earth hungry because he didn’t like chicken

D) Kazuma’s precious katana, that he loved dearly and that he’d apparently managed to persuade the government to let him bring to the UK.

Oh yeah, drive the knife in why don’t you game!

Why do I feel like Ryunosuke’s about to get roasted?

There we go.

(It’s what Kazuma would have wanted)

DON’T JUST GO WITH IT RYUNOSUKE!

Back to investigating, we’ve got a ransacked shelf, and Kazuma’s London diary.

Just, you know, to rip my heart out...

It looks like the final entry’s incomplete, which means Kazuma was probably writing it when the incident happened. Unfortunately Susato is violently insistent that we respect the Kazuma’s private thoughts after his death, so we can’t read it.

We’ve got the inky Russian(?) on the floor which none of us can either recognize, nor read (including me)

(Sorry to any Russians reading this by the way, I can only assume you’re screaming that this isn’t Russian, but I’m just going by what the Great Himbo Detective said in the cut scene.)

Ok, so the sailor who’s been guarding us got very flustered when we asked if everything was normal last night, meaning that either he’s been skiving off, or everything was in fact not normal last night.

Oh sweet, it seems that Ryunosuke and Susato both read detective novels, and while we’ve shot down the possibility of using the needle and thread trick to unbolt the door from the outside (side note: I must remember to try that later), I feel like both they, and the player who immediately started trying to rattle off facts about Curare, have had a bonding moment.

Ok, I think that’s this half of the room done, let’s go and check out that vent I saw earlier.

So the vent connects to the room next door. That means if the grate could be moved we have a way in and out of our crime scene!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

I mean, he’s quite hard to miss Ryunosuke

(I think Ryunosuke might have an Apollo complex short)

Understatement of the century

Her and me both Ryunosuke, it’s The Great Himbo Detective!!!

WE’RE TALKING TO HIM!

AND HE’S BLANKING US!!!

Herlock Sholmes I understand that you’re in a critical point of your investigation, but you need to understand that Ryunosuke, Susato and I are sad and need to see your magic gun.

YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSS!!!

IT’S LIKE HE HEARD ME!!!

OH GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE CHEER ME WITH YOUR WITH YOUR ECCENTRIC ACTS THAT ARE RELATABLE TO MY AUTISTIC ASS!!!

OMFG HE’S SO INCREDIBLY WRONG!!!

I hope this is the way all of his deductions go from now on.

Also I’m sorry Russia and the Russian language, I should not have believed what the man, who on reflection was sold to me as the great himbo detective, said.

Susato’s buying it!

Susato look into my eyes and tell me Ryunosuke could ever make it as a soldier.

No, please do!

And the bullet flies a mile wide!

I’m still upset about Kazuma, but I’m somehow also having the time of my life

SUSATO YOU KNOW I’M FROM JAPAN!!!

SHE TOOK ME OUT!!!

AND MY GOD AM I HERE FOR IT!!!

Ryunosuke’s finally snapped!

What I find amazing is that the Sherlock Holmes Herlock Sholmes stories clearly exist, basically unchanged in this world. So either Dr Watson Wilson was either lying through his teeth to spare his friend’s feelings, or he is the stopped clock is right twice a day person who Herlock actually hit the nail on the head for, and therefore he believed everything that was said.

‘On rout to foreign climates’ that’s how ships work Herlock!

Exactly!

I’ll say one thing for Herlock though, you can’t beat him down!

How am I both Ryunosuke and Susato in this scene?

Yeah Naruhodo-san! I thought you read detective stories!

Quick Susato! Get him to sign a copy!

Um... has no one told him yet...

I’m also curious about the fact that he still believes Dr Wilson’s in London. Either there are two Dr Wilson’s, or something weird is going on here.

Look at his hat Ryunosuke, it contains all the information you need

He got his own name wrong!

Hosonaga, I don’t know if you can hear from wherever you are on this ship dressed as a sailor, but there is a fight and you are rapidly losing!

(Also to be fair to Herlock, as someone who’s been playing a lot of Hitman recently, looking inside the wardrobe already means he’s doing a lot better than literally every character in that game.)

Ok so it was Russian then and I no longer have to apologies!

Do you think Herlock has ever been to Russia?

Ok Mr ‘is this cow a cat?’

:(((((((

HERLOCK THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!!!

Ok everyone, we’re also on the lookout for a missing Russian Ballerina along with Kazuma’s killer. I don’t know how, but I wouldn’t have been told about her if she wasn’t relevant

I can’t believe we’ve finally found the vindictive part of Ryunosuke’s beautiful personality!

We’re finally reading Kazuma’s diary!

Oh fuck, Kazuma was bitten by an adder

Wait, if that was the case why didn’t he dispatch it with his big sword? We’ve seen him do precision work before, so that can’t be it.

Either way, I think we really need to talk to the person in the room next to mine.

Also: Herlock Sholmes gets seasick!

Did she just break my cuffs?

My mistake she’s just showing some tough love to get me to buck up!

Let’s go team!

HOSONAGA!!!

“What are you doing here?” “I think that should be my line” This feels like that meme of the two Spidermen pointing at each other

I wouldn’t be so sure Susato. Hosonaga seems a lot like me, a bunch of disabilities held together by sheer force of will.

He still has a job!

(Or his superiors are just trying to send him as far away from Japan as they can)

HELL YEAH HOSONAGA, LETS PUNCH THE RULES UNTIL THEY SQUEAK!

(Also your superiors are definitely trying to ship you out)

Oh...

That would explain Kazuma’s whole vibe.

Although something about this feels wrong. No disrespect to Hosonaga, but as determined as he is he doesn’t exactly have the physical prowess you’d associate with stopping an assassination. I know I haven’t exactly seen him at work yet, but something about this feels like he was set up to fail.

Now the thing is, that while he can cut it as a waiter, Hosonaga isn’t exactly built to fit in among sailors. It’s not going to take a genius therefore, to work out who Kazuma’s guard is, especially if he’s been around Kazuma from dawn till dusk. That’s probably why his killer had to kill him in his cabin, and it’s also why they probably drugged his food (which means they didn’t know him enough to know he didn’t like chicken)

:(((((((((((((

On the plus side though, it looks as though Hosonaga believes in my innocence.

Come on Hosonaga, remember when you bought Miss Brett to us!

Hell yeah Hosonaga!

Hosonaga heard my call! He heard that he was losing his place as my second favourite character and came back swinging!!!

Determination Ryunosuke!

Also probably hacking up a lot of blood, that does wonders to unnerve people in my experience

Now, I should present Kazuma’s diary here... but...

Yes, everything is as it should be...

He’s digging it!

Oh no he took it as an insult!

Sorry Ryunosuke, that’s the crime scene thief’s now

Ok let’s do this properly then

Yeah boy!

LETS DO THIS TEAM!!!

Ryunosuke, do you remember nothing about this man?

Hosonaga didn’t come here to play!

Ok, we’re moving on out (except not right now because I’ve still got a couple of things to look at before we go)

I think Ryunosuke might be a bad influence on Susato...

Also I feel like I’ve pegged Susato wrong regarding the rules. Susato’s just very good at keeping up the appearance of following them.

Come to think of it, the fact she’s a judicial assistant, despite women apparently not being allowed in the Japanese court other than to testify should have clued me in.

Susato Mikotoba: Breaking the rules in front of you, but in a way you don’t notice

(Also the bell pull’s not working, but I think we all expected that)

Susato I’ve been living in a cupboard!

Don’t pity me!

Ok, so I’m not quite sure when Ryunosuke and I started thinking as one, but we’ve all agreed it’s happening now

Ryunosuke do not get caught in the mousetrap!

Susato can see right through me (Ryunosuke)

Umm...

This is the Phoenix Maya dynamic inverted, and I am living for it.

Susato: Now this is an emergency button, it’s very important you do NOT press it!

Ryunosuke: *lunges for the trigger*

It feels amazing being the wayward partner!

Our rout into cabin 2’s blocked by approximately 1 ton of sailor, so for now Susato and I will have to dick around avenge Kazuma out here in the corridor.

It seems that last night’s log is mostly blank, so I’m guessing I was right about the sailor on duty skiving off.

Hmm, so the person in the next cabin’s probably quite important then. Given what just happened with Miss Brett that’s not a good sign.

And it seems like I’m not allowed to visit whoever it is without an invitation... which might prove tricky given as how there in there and I’m out here

Ah good, a Western Gentleman, that’s just what we need!

Hmmmmm

These guys left their post for a while didn’t they?

Either that or there’s something (or someone) they’re keeping off the records.

This might be a bit of a wide shot, but that mousetrap makes me wonder if the crew has some sort of secret pet squirrelled away somewhere. It doesn’t entirely add up what with them putting traps down, but with everyone in Ace Attorney having something to hide it’s all I can think of now.

Bif Strogenov’s left to report to the captain, nows our window to violate some privacy!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

Shot down!

Herlock that thing’s tiny, I don’t think anyone’s in there!

It moved!

Guess I’m eating my words!

Herlock???

Ok, we’re not allowed to look inside the case, or indeed anything, but fortunately we have HERLOCK SHOLMES THE GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE!!!

Deduce away Herlock!

Herlock... are you about to tell this man that he’s also the Russian Assasin? Are you going to do this round the whole ship until you get it right?

Wait this is working!?!

Herlock Sholmes is Susato’s one blind spot and Ryunosuke’s one point of clarity

CHOOCHOO!!!

THIS IS AMAZING!

He’s not entirely right though...

(Editors note: I completely managed to miss capturing 90% of the ? icons)

I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

HERLOCK LOOK AT THIS MAN’S NOSE, LOOK AT MY FACE! NOW LOOK AT THE MAN IN THE PORTRAIT!

However, the newspaper in his pocket and the little ! icon seems to suggest there’s some connection there.

(Editors note: I also managed to miss every ! icon)

And there is a crime being committed, but it’s not to do with the case.

Yeah, it probably just contains one of those pets we’re not supposed to have.

So... a baby?

So do a lot of people Susato

Ok, so The Great Himbo Detective is actually really good at making observations, it’s just how he applies them that’s shit.

I wonder if this is what Dr Wilson did for their partnership, but he just cut out the bits where he said things like: Herlock these people have completely different faces, maybe there’s a different reason they’ve got the paper?

Ryunosuke normally: The fact Hosonaga’s working in this restaurant clearly means he’s struggling financially!

Ryunosuke around Herlock: You can’t just say the first guess that pops into your head!

HERLOCK BUSTED US OUT!!!

(Ok he’s also the reason we were in handcuffs, but still)

Olay!

What! Noooooo!

‘Course Correction: Hold it Mr Sholmes!’ What a title!

Important news just in: Ryunosuke can’t grow a beard

A part of me says that he was about to use the sheers to cut up that paper, but there are obviously other copies around the ship, so unless he’s planning a sheers rampage that can’t be right.

Hello!

Wait a second... with that reaction to the paper... is there a Russian Ballerina in there?

WE DID THE HERLOCK SHOLMES COOL SPIN AND CLICK!!!

Also look at Ryunosuke’s little cocky smirk!

He’s really getting into this!

And I couldn’t be more proud!

We’re tag teaming it!

Herlock I swear to god if you tell me she’s that assassin

WHAT DID I JUST SAY!

(Editors note: Got that one!)

I sure am Susato!

Keep telling yourself that Ryunosuke, we can all see the truth

Ah, so the nose was fake too

That makes a lot more sense now!

Well she did disappear with a priceless tiara

He said, rubbing his hand in glee

This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship!

Damn straight I do!

Bingo

For some reason I pictured it as being pink though, I don’t know why

Anyway so, while Nikolina does need money it seems that she didn’t steal the tiara. Apparently it was given to her as a present.

Also Nikolina is only 15, and has run away by herself for reasons currently unknown. I’m starting to get the feeling that the crew (or at least the two we’ve met) might have been looking out for her.

Oh yeah, the moving travel case!

Given the rules regarding pets, I wonder if that’s what’s in there? It would explain the attitude of the sailors we met.

Is it the Russian Revolutionary Herlock? You have to tell us if it is...

He’s learning!

Yep, she’s looking at the pet rule sign, now show me the pet!

Whoooooooo!

Yeah, I’m pretty sure the guys on the door were covering for her (and probably her pet too)

Hmm, so Nikolina’s running from someone, so she decided to disguise herself to be safe and has been a jumble of nerve ever since.

Can I see...

Bless you Nikolina, but you’re not the best at keeping secrets. I’m pretty sure the crew have collectively decided to just look the other way and let the traumatised 15 year old have her pet.

HE CUFFED ME AGIAN!!!

I wonder if Nikolina’s beloved pet’s a snake?

Can I just...

:(

Fine...

No, everyone must see my badge!

HA!

:(

:D

Ok now let’s go back to actually playing the game!

So, because she’s a jumble of nerves, Nikolina hasn’t been noticing much about what’s been happening around her. However I think she’d have probably noticed signs of danger, like loud noises, so I’m a little curious as to why she didn’t pick up on the sound of the tableware being sent to the floor.

From what I can gather about her ‘never dancing again’ whatever happened probably has something to do with the ballet.

Either that or she’s worried about being linked with her old life if she goes back on the scene under another name.

That’s a good point actually, while people are funny and I can get her wanting a memento of her life, that’s an incredibly distinctive memento to have.

It must have some sort of emotional significance, I think she said it was given to her by an Earl, so maybe her father?

Hmm, that’s a pretty distinctive thing to try and pawn Nikolina.

Yikes! So the Novavich Ballet’s got really unethical working conditions. (Which probably shouldn’t be too much of a shock given the time period.) Now I understand why Nikolina’s so keen to never put herself in that situation again.

Yeah, I thought that was the case.

Huh?

Oh yeah... that is odd

Ah, so that’s why everyone was so on edge!

Right...

(I feel like this would carry more weight if we hadn’t just been flashing our badge at anyone who looks our way)

Now onto the most important question:

HERLOCK NO!

Susato is me (but personally I’m hoping for a kitten)

Ok Genius, what sort of animal is it?

I’ll eat your funky hat if that’s true Herlock

Important information 2: Never trust Herlock with a pet

Please let it be that we were Kazuma’s pet

Wait no, I’m an idiot. I’m obviously supposed to ask about the speckled band

Wow she changed quick!

She’s leaving to talk to the captain, is this our chance to meet her friend!?!

Booooo, we’ve been chucked out!!!

[teacupfulofstarshine]

pattonella part 13: kingdom alert: the princes are fiiiiiiiightiiiiiiiing!

cw: mentions of injury/infection/illness, mentions of death, arguing, overworking, parental figures who are not the best 

wordcount: ~3.3k

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11 // part 12 // read it on ao3!! 

virgil stays in the infirmary for almost a week after he first wakes up. 

he spends a lot of his time sleeping, since he’s too weak to do anything else. for the first few days of wakefulness, he barely has the strength to squeeze logan’s and patton’s hands when they hold them. despite his barely-open eyes, he smiles every time he sees them. 

“i’m sorry,” he says once, voice raspy and hoarse. patton tilts his head in confusion.

“why are you apologizing?”

“for scaring you. i came home unconscious . . . on logan’s horse . . . and you didn’t know . . . what was happening . . . i’m sorry . . .” his chest heaves slightly with effort, and patton leans in to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

“it’s not your fault. you saved roman’s life, vee, you saved everyone. you all came home alive, and that’s all i can ask for.” virgil smiles at him, eyes half-open, and yawns. “are you tired, vee?” 

“‘m always tired lately.” 

“that’s normal,” emile says, carrying over a large teapot. “you expended an enormous amount of magic when you were fighting. your body is trying to recover that energy; that’s why you’re sleeping so much. this tea helps you recover your energy as well, so keep drinking.” 

virgil makes a face at the cup of tea emile has in his hands, but he still lets patton help him sit up. he takes the tea and sips at it gently, blowing off the cloud of steam. emile dips a washcloth into a pail of cool water, wrings it out, and drapes it across virgil’s forehead, removing the old cloth that has grown warm. 

“is logan going to visit today?” virgil asks. 

“prince logan said he would stop by after attending to his duties at court,” emile says. “remy will be back in a little while, he’s attending to the king.” a somber tone falls over the infirmary at the mention of the king. 

“what . . . exactly is wrong with the king?” patton asks. “we know that he’s sick, of course, but - but we have no idea what’s actually wrong with him. do you know? are - are you allowed to tell us?” 

emile exhales, nodding slowly. ��the king was injured in battle. he hid it because -”

“he’s a self-righteous idiot and a coward,” remy mutters, shoving the infirmary door shut behind him. emile’s face brightens when he sees his husband, dimming when he sees how pale and drawn remy looks. “he didn’t want to worry people, so instead of letting me treat his injury and having a recovery time of maybe two weeks, he hid it until it got infected and then he hid the infection until he collapsed and now it’s so far gone that there’s nothing i can do to heal him. it’s killing him from the inside out.” 

“the king will die?” patton asks. 

“we all die eventually,” remy says, “but it’s true that the king is ailing more swiftly than most. i’d say he has . . . three years left to live, at most.” emile reaches up and gently kisses remy’s cheek, pressing his face into his shoulder. 

“there’s a reason the rush is on to get thomas officially named crown prince,” emile says. “if he does not bear the official title when the king passes on, there will be a power struggle.” 

“why? thomas is the eldest prince. roman and logan would never stand in his way of becoming king, would they?” 

“no, but without an official heir appointed, it is possible that anyone with a connection to the royal bloodline, however small, could present themself as heir apparent. it would take months, perhaps even years to sort through the muck and mire of all that inherently political bullshit, which would derail the peace and prosperity of this kingdom. it is imperative that thomas is officially named the crown prince before the king dies.” 

“do we have to be married for thomas to be named crown prince?” patton asks. “is an engagement enough to satisfy the law?” 

“unfortunately, no. engagements can be made and broken at the drop of a hat, but a marriage is not so easily annulled. the wedding ceremony must be completed before thomas can be named crown prince.” 

“i think that’s a stupid rule,” patton mutters. virgil laughs softly, and patton squeezes his hand. 

“the most likely scenario at this point is a triple function.”

“a what?” 

“logan and roman will have a double wedding to the two of you, and then once the wedding ceremony is completed, thomas will immediately be officially named crown prince. that way, no matter what happens, the kingdom will be secured.”

“and then we party?” patton asks. remy laughs. 

“yeah, babes. and then we party.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“everything alright?” 

logan jumps three feet into the air at the sudden noise, whirling around to see roman behind him, hand raised as though he was about to lower it onto his shoulder. “take a deep breath, lo, it’s just me.” logan presses a hand to his chest, exhaling sharply. 

“you startled me, roman. please do not do that.” roman rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder against logan’s as he steps towards the window logan’s been pensively staring out of. “can i be of assistance?” 

“do you know any good smiths?” 

logan hums, clasping his hands behind his back. “you spend far more time consorting with the villagers than i, roman. if anyone were to possess such information, it would be you.”

“yeah, but you spend all your time with the tax records and shit, i figured you’d know.” 

logan frowns. “what is all this about, roman?” 

roman looks at him, and logan realizes he’s been crying. “roman -”

“i went to see father.” 

logan wants to swear. “roman, i thought we agreed to go together if we went -”

“we did! but i saw remy going to treat him, so i followed him, and when the door opened he saw me and he beckoned me inside and what was i gonna do, say no to the king?” 

“what did he say to you?” 

“he asked me if i was married yet.” 

“and you told him?” 

“no, but i have a partner.” 

“what did he say?” 

“‘that’s not good enough, roman,’” roman grouses, dropping his voice into a gruff imitation of their father’s. “'you of all people should understand how imperative it is that there is no issue with succession. thomas must be named my heir and become crown prince before i shuffle off this mortal coil -’”

“don’t talk about father’s death like that,” logan snaps. 

“and how else should i talk about it, logan? father has been dying for years. and he’s making me rush my relationship with patton just so that thomas can get the official version of a title we all know he has!” 

“father does not want to die without officially naming an heir. i understand that.”

“you really think someone’s going to be stupid enough to challenge thomas’s birthright?” 

“it will not hurt to be prepared. you are responding irrationally.” 

“right, because you’ve never done anything irrational in your life, logan, like riding into battle with no backup and no plan because your stupid magic boyfriend thinks i can’t take care of myself! what does he know, anyway? he doesn’t know anything about me or us or -” 

“virgil saved your life,” logan says, voice low and thunderous. he takes a step forward, then another, and roman takes a step backward, then another. “if it wasn’t for his vision, you would have died . many more people would have been injured or killed if he had not come when he did. or did you forget the fact that he fell into a coma because he expended so much magic saving you? healing you? keeping you alive?” roman flinches away from his anger, and logan can’t bring himself to care.

“logan, i -”

“this conversation is over,” logan says, voice icy and cold. “i will see you at dinner, prince roman. send a servant if you have need of me.” he turns around and stalks down the hallway, footsteps sharp and precise against the stone floor. he hears roman throw a punch at something behind him, but he doesn’t call out, and logan doesn’t turn around. 

*~*~*~*~*

“lord san - patton?” 

patton looks up from the basket of yarn he’s picking through to see nate standing in the doorway, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. “nate! come in!” 

“you have a visitor,” nate says. he sounds oddly formal, and patton tilts his head in confusion. “sir claire, knight of the kingdom, second in command to his royal highness prince roman, requests an audience.”

“oh! um . . . send her in, sure!” patton remembers her riding just behind logan and roman when they’d returned from battle, but he’s never actually spoken to her. 

nate steps into the hallway and murmurs something, and then claire steps in. she’s not wearing full armor, but there’s leather wrapped around her forearms and legs, and her hair is tied up in a knot atop her head. she’s panting slightly, face shining with sweat, as though she’s just come from the training grounds. 

“lord sanders,” she says, bowing to him. patton stands up, not sure if he’s supposed to curtsy back at her or not, but as he’s gathering the material of his dress claire continues speaking. “i would request something of you, lord sanders.” 

“um . . . okay! is it something you need from roman?” 

“it actually concerns his highness prince roman.” 

“is he hurt? is he alright?” 

claire shakes her head. “i believe he had an . . . altercation with his highness prince logan earlier. prince roman came to the training grounds two hours ago, and he has been putting any guard he can through rigorous dueling. he’s finally exhausted his supply of human opponents, and he has been hacking away at training dummies for the past thirty minutes. his hands shake with exhaustion, but nothing i do or say convinces him to stop and rest. i worry he may pass out from heat or over exertion or -” 

patton wrings his hands nervously, and claire takes a deep breath. “i do not mean to alarm you, lord sanders. i merely thought perhaps, as you are beloved of prince roman, you might accompany me to the training grounds and convince him to rest, if only briefly?” 

“of course,” patton says. “nate, go to the kitchens, get some cold water, as much as you can carry, and some sort of snack. cheese, maybe? and nuts? something to get roman’s strength up. meet me on the training grounds.” 

“at once, lord sanders,” nate says, bowing his head respectfully to patton and claire before sprinting out into the hall. patton slips his shoes on and follows claire out to the training ground. 

“how long have you and roman known each other?” 

“the prince and i entered knighthood training at the same time. were he not the prince, i suspect i may have been picked for captain of the guard, but i am not stupid. i know the ways of the kingdom. the third prince, should there be one, becomes captain of the guard, leader of the knights. prince roman has the skills to back the position up, at least. he is the only person who has ever bested me in combat.”

“it sounds like you really like him.”

“i admire and respect him greatly. it pains me to see him like this.”

“i’ll get him to calm down,” patton says. “what was he fighting with logan about?” 

“it is unclear to me, lord sanders, but it distressed him.” 

“you can just call me patton, if you want!”

“that is very kind of you, lord - patton.”

the stone walls of the castle keep it cool, even in the warmth of summer, so patton had chosen a dress with a long skirt made of lighter fabric. the minute he steps foot outside, he can feel himself starting to sweat. claire, wearing training clothes and leather guards, doesn’t seem bothered at all, so patton pretends that he isn’t, either. 

he can hear sounds of exertion before they even reach the arena. patton gathers the fabric of his skirt up into his hands so that it doesn’t drag along the dusty ground as claire opens the gates to the training arena for him. roman is surrounded by a series of training dummies, stuffed with straw and carrying crude replica weapons. roman is shouting and grunting as he throws himself at the training dummies. 

“his strokes are sloppy,” claire says. patton doesn’t know anything about fighting, but he sort of sees what she means. he’s watched roman train before; he usually keeps all his limbs close to his body, watching with narrowed eyes and striking with quick, precise movements in rapid succession. this looks like a hurricane given human form. roman’s limbs flail wildly, his chest is heaving, and his hair is matted with sweat. 

patton hurries across the arena floor. “roman!” 

roman whirls around, holding his sword out, but his arms are shaking and the tip of the blade drops down into the dust. “patton?” he pants. 

“ro, sweetheart, how long have you been out here?” 

“not - not long, i don’t . . .” roman drives the tip of his sword into the arena floor and leans on it heavily. patton lets his skirts fall down around his ankles again as he reaches out to take roman’s arm and help support him. 

“come sit with me, ro, okay? come on. come sit down.” roman doesn’t protest, quietly staggering over to the wooden benches lining the arena. patton moves slowly to allow roman to shuffle along at his side, carefully helping roman sit down. “claire said you’ve been here for hours, ro.” 

roman sighs. “so she sent you to come reign me in?” 

“she sent me out here to ask you to take a break. she’s worried about you. so am i.” 

“i’m just training. that’s my job, patton.”

“you’re destroying yourself,” patton says firmly. “what happened?” 

roman stares off at the horizon. patton doesn’t pressure him to talk, gently leaning his head against his shoulder. after about ten minutes of sitting in silence, roman finally says, “lo and i got in a fight.” 

“a fight?” 

“i went to see father today. we had an agreement with the two of us and thomas that we wouldn’t go see him on our own. he can be a bit . . . intense. and lo and i got into an argument, and . . . he used my full title. he never uses that unless he’s super pissed off. and like, i’m pissed at him too! he was being an asshole! but . . . so was i, i guess . . .”

nate approaches, setting down a pitcher of water, two cups, and a basket of bread and cheese and nuts. roman shoves a hunk of cheese in his mouth as patton pours them both water and nods his thanks to nate. roman downs a glass and a half of water before staring off again, eyes unfocused. 

patton hums, reaching out to set his hand on roman’s knee. “do you wanna talk about it?” 

roman hesitates for a moment, swirling the water in his cup around, and then he does. 

*~*~*~*~*

“are you going to tell me what you’re brooding about?” 

“i do not brood,” logan grouses. 

“are you going to tell me why you’re pouting, then?” 

“i do not pout either.” logan pouts at virgil, who bites his lower lip to keep from laughing. logan continues to pout as he gently picks up a clay teapot and pours virgil another cup of the magic-replenishing tea. virgil wraps his hands around logan’s as he takes the cup, and logan’s face smoothes into a small smile.  

“i . . . had a disagreement with roman, earlier.” 

“i don’t like the way you’re saying disagreement.” 

“he saw our father.” virgil, sitting up to sip at his tea, pauses as logan’s hands ball into fists. 

“how is he?” 

“our father? the same as always. asking about if we’re married yet so he can name thomas crown prince and die already.” virgil winces, and logan sighs. “forgive me, my love. our father . . . he is constantly rushing our lives. he would have had us wed to anyone, regardless of feelings, so that thomas could have his position as crown prince secured. thomas fought for us to have a chance at happiness, hence the ball for roman’s birthday. our father gave in, but he is . . . irritated that we have not yet wed.” 

“would it make things easier if we got married?” virgil says. logan reaches out and takes one of his hands. 

“i am not going to rush you or have roman rush patton because of our father’s succession issues. you are more than a political bargaining chip to me, virgil. you are . . .” logan’s cheeks and ears flush pink, and virgil can’t hide the besotted smile on his face as he watches logan’s gaze fix on a specific point over his shoulder. “you are invaluable to me. you are incredibly precious. i will not have you feeling like a pawn to be manipulated when you are - you are so much more than that to me.” virgil’s gaze slides to the black chess queen, propped neatly on the nightstand where he can see it.

“you’re important to me, too, l.” 

“roman was insinuating that we were irrational for running into battle to save him. he was implying that you are - are stupid or something, that you don’t know things, when without you he would be dead and we would have suffered innumerable casualties! that fool, what was he thinking , he -” 

“you were worried about him,” virgil says. 

“roman is capable. he does not require worrying about, so he likes to say.” logan scoffs.

“you’re his big brother, lo. you were going to worry no matter what happened. i worry about patton no matter what, and i bet thomas worries about you and roman no matter what. that’s just what brothers do.” 

logan pulls his hands into his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. “i . . . suppose i should apologize to him.” 

“hey, if he was being a jackass, he should apologize to you, too.” logan leans in and gently presses a kiss to virgil’s cheek. virgil makes a very undignified squeaking noise that he will deny vehemently to anyone else. 

*~*~*~*~*

“logan?” 

“roman.” 

“i . . . uh . . . ‘m sorry. i didn’t, uh . . . mean to insult virgil, or . . . or imply that he’s stupid. i know his magic takes a lot out of him, and i know he . . . he really used a lot when you guys came to save us. i just . . . i don’t like feeling like the stupid kid brother you all have to chase after, you know?” 

“i find that i owe you an apology as well, roman. i was, perhaps, unnecessarily harsh on you when last we spoke. i felt that someone had to defend virgil’s . . . honor is not quite the right word, but it is the closest i have.” 

“i can take care of myself, you know.” 

“i know, roman. but when virgil burst into the throne room and told us that he had seen you being slain . . . after the truth of his prediction with my horse incident, thomas and i were understandably distraught. we always fear the worst when you ride out into battle, and virgil seemed to be implying that those worst fears would be realized.” 

“i get that. and i . . . i am grateful, for what he did. for what you did.” 

“i know.” 

“father just . . . rattled me.” 

“i confess that i am irked as well. he has been ill for years, and remy is confident that he is not on death’s doorstep despite his illness. there is no reason for him to be so insistent on this marriage. patton and virgil are more than just marriage partners.” 

“i love him, lo. i - even if i didn’t have to, i would want to marry him.” 

“i share the sentiment.” 

“. . . i do love you, lo. even if you’re an annoying big brother sometimes.” 

“and i love you as well, despite your constant annoying younger brother status.” 

“hey!” 

(patton, hiding in the hallway, giggles and scurries off to the hospital wing.)

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part 3 (The Great Mini series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 8K (more on the thicc side. So be ready)

Summary: You are bethrothed to the Russian Count Grigor Dymov in order to secure an alliance for your family and people with Russia from breaking. The day has finally arrived, your wedding day and night and all that entails

Part One//Part Two

Smut Scene for this Part (18+ only please)

Warnings:  Typos!!!! mentions of sex, marriage, family, swearing, dogs, Emperor Peter being Emperor Peter, drinking, drunkenness, weddings, and religion. The fear of rape is briefly discussed.

A/N: It’s finally here! Yay for wedding fics! For a few notes, I based the wedding ceremony from Russian Orthodox practices (since that is the religion obviously in the show of the court) so if I get something wrong about anything sacred, please drag me gently. Second, the gift mentioned in the middle part is, fun fact! An actual historical practice between couples! (I just though it would enhance the story). And third, I decided not to include a smut scene for those reading this fic underage...that part will be worked on and published separately. Fourth, I am thrilled and overwhelmed with all of the love shown for this miniseries. I am having a ball writing it! Enjoy!

Russian Wedding ceremonies were making your head turn. Already there were so many things to do you wondered if you could remember them by tomorrow. And this was the only rehearsal you had.

The tall priest, who you found out was called Archie, stood before you both. He practiced speaking a monotone blessing and made the sign of the cross over you.

“Next, you’ll be given candles…” he advised, waving his hands out.

Two men walked by to hand you both a candle (“for the ceremony, they will be lit, but they aren’t. So just be careful.”) You recognized that Arkady gave Grigor his candle and the bespectacled man you have seen greeting you when you entered handed you yours.

“Thank you…uhm…sorry, I’ve seen you around, but…” you asked.

“Count Orlo, Lady Y/L/N”, he greeted, with a polite nod.

“Thank you Orlo,” you muttered.

“Of course! Well, welcome to Russia! If you need any-”

Archie glared at Orlo icily until he scurried away, head ducked in embarrassment.

“Now let us continue…”

He said a line of scripture in a way that seemed mystical, close to ecstasy, his eyes closed and hands open to the sky. After a while, the droning lost its magic pull and became dull.

You and Grigor glanced at each other, making sure Archie wasn’t able to notice in all his holiness.

“We have to practice the puppy after this- would you like to see?” you whispered.

“I’d take watching paint dry over this, of course I want to see!” Grigor replied.

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

“Just give her a bit of chicken,” Count Arkady advised.

You and Grigor nodded. You leaned down to stroke the fur of your little gift. She had trotted over cheerfully when either your or Grigor said “come,” prancing as if she was the one who owned the little apartment you and your mother were staying in. Arkady handed a gold bowl of cold, roast chicken meat that you tossed to the puppy every time she did as you said. Yout mother sat in a corner, silently watching everything, but present to make sure nothing inappropriate was going on.

“Very good…now, what is your little one’s name again? I can never remember,” he asked, politely ducking his head to sneeze into a handkerchief.

The puppy looked up at you and smiled.

“I’m calling her Sonya. It’s the Russian version of Sophie, our Empresses old name. And she was the first friend I met here. Besides, it’s a Russian name and she’s a Russian dog,” you explained.

“Very well, Sonya- sit!” Arkady ordered, his handkerchief falling delicately from his free hand.

He held up a small bite of roast chicken clear enough where she could see it. She sat again. He handed it over to you and you tossed it to the floor. Wagging her tail, she ate it up.

“Good girl, Sonya! Good girl!” you praised.

So far Sonya had not caused too much trouble. The servant for Grigor had often took her out to do business when she needed it. She did bark, chew on everything, and leave droppings on the floor sometimes. But the first night in your apartments, you had trouble sleeping in this strange new place. Little Sonya hopped up on the bed and curled up next to you as you laid awake. Her warmth and licking kisses on your face were welcome when your anxious mind was trying to make you awake. And soon you slept with her little body nestled on top of your stomach.

“Keep this up, and soon you will have a trained dog. The secret is to reward them every time they’re good and be careful with discipline,” Arkady advised.

Grigor nodded. He leaned down to pick up the Sonya and scratch her head. You could not help but notice that the party man Georgiana warned about had a kind smile to the little animal. Maybe she was exaggerating to scare you.

Arkady walked over to where a serf held up a laundry basket and got rid of his handkerchief.

“She hasn’t been a bother, I hope,” Grigor turned to ask, seeing how your teacher was distracted.

“You’ll soon find out…I’m joking, she has been fine. Energetic, but fine. Nothing out of normal for a puppy,” You answered.

Arkady took it to the next serf, advising him on kinds of ways it should be cooked for the notabilities’ dogs next time. The serf sighed and nodded before leaving. He turned around gracefully, clapping his hands, and rubbing them loudly.

“How are you both feeling!? You do know what is happening tomorrow…” he teased.

You could not forget. And you wanted to. The wedding was already tomorrow.

“Yes, well…we’ve already rehearsed the ceremony this morning and…we’ll…we’ll be ready!” Grigor said.

“The candles? The crown? Hopefully, you are prepared to kiss in front of all of court, they’ll ask for that! My Tatyana and I kissed fifty times at ours!” Arkady added on sheepishly.

You put your hand to your face to hide it in embarrassment. The days past mostly consisted of eating at small dinners and teas at least with you, sometimes Grigor, and your mother or walking through the gardens with some small talk between the three of you. His arm was offered for you to hold when you walked together. But that was the most of touching you both had done. Those and the chaste, formal kisses on the cheek or hand.

“We’ll be ready, for everything,” Grigor answered.

He went over to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in slight worry at your silence. You felt a slight dizziness from how soon everything would be

Arkady dismissed himself and left, and your mother got up from her seat in the corner to see him out. You turned to Grigor, face feeling warm.

“Are we ready to…to kiss in front of everyone? Perhaps we can make it work…”

Although you bit the inside of your cheek and folded your hands, eyes darting from the floor to his face and back again.

“I…I don’t think I am…” he said. “It’s been, uh, a little while.”

He was careful to not mention or talk about Georgiana unless prompted and you thanked your stars for that. It felt like being a mouse under the eye of a hungry hawk with her walking by in corridors.

“I know we can make this work, at least for everyone we know and the alliance,” you said. “Maybe we can…practice. At least for the ceremony.”

As your mother turned around to see you both chatting, Sonya went up to her, to greet her with a bark and a wag of her curling tail. Grigor stepped forward to her.

“Lady Y/L/N, can I have your consent to kiss Y/F/N? I’d like to do it before dinner, so I don’t reek of onions,” he offered.

Your mother looked at you both, then nodded.

“Alright, I don’t see why not. But no tongues.”

You turned to him, a little unsure of what to do. Your mother and Sonya watching closely.

“I don’t know what to do with my arms,” you confess.

He took both of your hands.

“We can just hold hands for now…” he advised.

“Then you have to lean forward, right?” you asked.

“Right.”

Leaning your face forward, you could make out the dust of freckles across his nose. He paused a little. You kept still. Then looking at each other’s eyes, he gave you a slight nod and both of you went in for a peck on the lips. It was so quick, so light, it was like gulping air.

Your hands immediately relaxed and let go. A rush of exhaling air left both of you.

“Alright, would you like me to ring for tea? After dinner, you both cannot see each other until after the ceremony,” your mother offered.

She scooped the puppy in her arms and carried her over one shoulder.

“That…that sounds nice,” he added.

“Shouldn’t you be with the Emperor? Weren’t you going to drink with him?” you ask.

“He can wait. Velementov might be with him.”

Once the tea set arrived and all of you had a sip, you all began to talk, and not just about what the weather was like. He made jokes and listened to your mother. He broke off part of a plain biscuit to feed it to Sonya. She even hopped up to the couch and slept beside him as he stroked her fur.

“Well, tomorrow’s the big day, I bet you’re tired of hearing that.” Your mother sighed, setting down her empty plate.

“But…I’m still jittery, I have to say,” you said, taking a last sip of your sweet tea.

Suddenly you looked at Grigor and he took his hand and wrapped it around yours. It wasn’t in the sweaty awkwardness of having to practice kissing, but it was dry, soft, and comforting.

“I’m jittery, too, I guess. But…if it helps Russia, we’ll do it,” he added. “Y/F/N is a brave woman to do this, and she has a gentle soul, the way I’ve seen her with little Sonya. I could do worse.”

Smiling lightly at him, you muttered a thanks. His hands heat was slowly becoming comforting. The shots of adrenaline from his touch were slowing down through you.

“And you Grigor…you’ll do, I guess,” you responded quietly.

The clock struck for the late afternoon. Grigor looked at it with wide eyes.

“Oh shi- no. We have a meeting with Archie about church laws and Peter wants me there until dinner. Can I leave?” he asked.

A part of you stifled a laugh from the suppressed swearing. At this point you were almost desensitized to it in the Russian court.

Your mother nodded, “you may.”

“And can I kiss your daughter one last time? I just want to be ready for the ceremony?” he asked in a hurry.

She nodded again, raising an eyebrow revealing her actual thoughts.

He leaned down and kissed you, putting in a little bit of pressure. And something…different. It did not feel like a polite kiss, or a practice kiss. It felt like a lover’s kiss. You closed your eyes, feeling it linger for just a bit. Then finally, he let go and said his farewells, leaving with a slight hop in his step.

It was as if a ghost on your lips was still there as he walked away. It was the nicest kiss you have had so far in your life.

Even before you went to bed to try to sleep before the big day with your mother in the other room, you found yourself tracing where it was.

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

The next day, the hours dragged on throughout. You saw only your mother since the wedding would be in the early evening. You found yourself staring at the clock a lot, sweating with each tick of the hands. You wished you could run to Grigor and just vent about your worry, but your mother told you it was always bad luck before the ceremony.

And a marriage like this could use a little less bad luck you thought.

By two hours time before the ceremony would begin, Mariol arrived with the ribbons and decorations to start doing your hair.

“I’m here, the Empresses treat!” she announced, but waving her hands and shrugging as if it was the same dull task as sweeping. She held a wooden box under her arm.

“Oh, oh thank you! How splendid!” your mother said, taking your hand.

Mariol put the wooden box on your vanity and opened it, revealing feathers, pearls, and other little accessories.

“Want a bow?” she asked.

“Not for me,” you refused.

Selecting a white ribbon, you clicked your tongue for Sonya to trot to you. Leaning down, you tied it lightly around her neck with a bow in the back.

“She has to look her best too…”

“But she’s not the bride. Come on, Y/N…it is time we fix your hair. Not going to have walk down looking like a pigsty.”

All the twirls, tucks, and pins in the world managed to be shoved in your head by the time you were through. You wanted to groan, but when Mariol heard Sonya’s yapping, her pulling in became gentler and her head turned.

“There you go! And for a bit of makeup…”

“Can I hold Sonya as you do it?” you asked, turning from the vanity.

Mariol’s eyes went wide.

“Wha-yes! Please!”

Amidst the small dabbing of rouge, she cooed in a high voice at the little puppy, sniffing your face curiously. Your mother sat in the back, admiring Mariol’s work and nodding in admiration, with a little compliment here or there.

But you could hardly breathe your response to the face you saw in the mirror when there was a knock on the door.

Sonya leaped from your lap and trailed Mariol as she opened the door. A familiar face poked his head in.

“Hello Y/N!” you father announced, putting away his tri-cornered hat.

With somewhat of a scream you and your mother both ran up to him. Behind him walked in your brother in a nice emerald suit and his new wife in a pretty golden dress.

You called their names and embraced all of them, fighting the urge to cry.

“What…what are you doing here? I didn’t know I would even see any of you again!” you asked.

“We managed to receive lodging near…we didn’t want to miss your wedding!” your brother said, leaning in for another hug.

Sonya yipped and jumped before your sister’s wife. She leaned down and petted her.

“Oh, when did you get this precious thing?” she asked.

You put Sonya into your arms and held the dog before everyone.

“She was a gift from Grigor,” you explain.

“Your…your fiancee?” your brother asked, eyebrows raised up.

“Yes! He…he’s nothing like…like you know who. He’s a good man. In spite all of this…” you explained, getting a little dizzy at the thought of being bound to him until death in an hour.

“But, what of the emperor? He approved?” your mother asked

“I spoke with him yesterday and asked to attend, at least I wanted to walk you down, and he agreed,” he answered. 

He walked over to Sonya to feel the top of her head as well.

“We didn’t want to miss it either,” your brother chimed in.

“Well, we’re about to dress her. So, the men better head out. The ceremony is in an hour!” Mariol interrupted, she brushed her arms to shoo your father and brother away

Your mother leaned into your father.

“This palace is the size of the moon-you don’t know the way to the chapel!” she retorted she placed her hands on her hip.

She was wearing a blueish-green dress with only a few embellishments of lace here and there, along with a large lace fan that befitted the mother of the bride. You had to admire her. For a woman who never insisted she was beautiful and would call herself the reverse, this look proved the thought wrong.

“I thought I’d follow you! Just let me give her away! Please!”

She batted him lightly and shooed the men away.

With a gulp you let Mariol remove the buttons of your light day dress and set it away. With stays tied on and panniers attached, only the dress needed to be put on now. Then the gown waiting in your chest met its long-awaited fate.

She slipped it over your head. After a few touches to your already done makeup and hair, a few minutes passed in awed quietness. Your father and brother walked back in, astonished. Giving one of a dozen “you’re beautiful” compliments until you found yourself believing them too. They noted how elaborate the lace went along the opening of the skirt. That there were a few small pearls and jewels in the skirt here and there, especially with your pearl necklace, earrings, and a wedding veil attached to the top of your head. Mariol let the long lines of the veil fall over your face. The world you saw was now covered in a thin layer of white.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N. No matter what happens after this, know that I love you,” your mother said, embracing you one last time.

It warmed your heart. A little. Even though the nerves still shot up your arms.

The hour struck six o clock. The door opened outside to see all of court looking at you.

There were a few murmurs of appreciation. You chose a nice white with faint hints of silver in a shade that was flattering to your skin. Little details-barely beads, but shinier- sparkled in the light. (you heard that Russian ladies were elaborate in dress and your visit and observations here were proven right).

Mother walking forward, you took your fathers arm and you headed through the palace. Your brother and his wife walked behind, walking Sonya on a small leash. Your view of the palace was blocked a little bit and you were glad of the guidance of your parents. Eyes and countless wigs turned as you both walked past.

At last you reached the chapel doors, full of gold and with saints gently looking down before you. There standing was Grigor and Emperor Peter, decked in cravats and with Peter wearing every medal on his coat you could count.

Grigor wore a wig that you could still smell the powder from. His coat was richly colored in a dark blue. He looked very striking and he turned to face you. There was a slight smile and he blinked rapidly.

Your father handed you to Grigor, and you took his hand. You both took one step into the chapel and paused as you saw the elaborate art and statues that covered the walls. Paintings of saints staring down between rows where even more courtiers sat to watch. You recognized Catherine and Georgiana from a brief glimpse. But you forced your eyes to stay on the black robes and beard of Archie at the altar.

Orlo and Arkady scurried forward with now lit candles. You nodded a thank you to Orlo who nodded back. You were both given a lighted candles and multiple prayers were said before and several bits of scripture. Then came the time to share the cup. The candles were set aside for now. Archie motioned to Grigor and he lifted your veil gently.

You looked up at him with…well, you did not know. And you could not describe the way he looked at you. It was soft, sweet, with reverence. Your eyes were beginning to water a little bit. But why were you crying? You liked Grigor, but…you were not sure how much. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, and everything seemed like a dream.

You both shared a cup of dry communal wine, and then Archie took a long golden piece of cloth, wrapping it around your joined hands.

Taking in a deep breath, Grigor began the vows, but he looked right at your eyes.

“I take you as my wife to be with you always-in wealth and in poverty, in disease and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death separates us.”

He seemed like he meant it. It took you aback. You almost forgot your own vows but repeated them, albeit in a soft, shaky voice.

The vows said, Arkady and Orlo walked forward with two gold crowns that were placed on your heads in front of everyone watching. You both walked around the area of the altar in a circle. The cloth still tied with your hands together. Grigor and you took slow, careful steps.

Once the cloth was removed you were both given rings placed on each other’s fingers. but Grigor’s hands were gentle as he slipped the band into your finger. A tiny diamond sparkled in its center.

Archie read a last piece of scripture- a long and extremely dry one for a wedding. Breathing in a bit, you turned your head to look up at Grigor. His eyes shining and his mouth a little open.

He turned to look back at you and gave you another smile. A beautiful one. And this time you smiled back. For a few seconds you forgot the dreaded day you both signed that contract a month ago.

A final benediction was placed, and Archie finished. The crowns were removed from your heads. He made the sign of the cross over both of you and then turned to the crowd watching.

“Welcome to our court, the Count and Countess Dymov. Count Dymov, you may kiss the bride.”

As practiced, you both tilted your heads, leaned forward, and kissed. There was a slight spark to it and almost felt his free hand wander to your back to press you tighter.

It was done. Your family’s future, your people, and the alliance were safe. Part of you let out a small breath and looked over to your family with a knowing look, until you felt Grigor nudge you and you both walked out. 

There was uproarious applause. The emperor was smug but Catherine beside him looked genuinely happy. She was dressed in a light yellow that made her seem a flower among all these over the top wigs and laces. Your brother and his wife clapped with the sweetest smiles on their faces. But the same could not be said of Georgiana, dressed in deep orange with the mark of a heart on her cheek and giving you a glare every time your eyes accidentally wandered to hers.

Both of you walked through the halls, hand in hand, among more applause and a few tossing of flower petals. You turned and he kissed your lips lightly.

“I’m not an eloquent man but you look like a fucking snowdrop with all this gold in the palace,” he whispered.

You stuttered, still grasping  his hand, “th-thank you. You look very handsome as well.”

He let out a little smile as you both walked to a smaller room. A few trusted courtiers put a piece of parchment on a desk before you two. Both of you signed the marriage contract and waited for a serf to summon you to the dining room where the celebration would commence along with the dinner.

As the contract was rolled up by an old man as round as a peach (it may have been Velementov, Grigor taught you so many names it was hard to remember) and brought away, both of you were alone for a few minutes. There was an odd silence, then you turned to him.

“Grigor, I know you have had your heart broken recently and…I want to tell you, I’ll try to be a good wife to you. As possible. I’ll try to be understanding and I… won’t hurt you. Because I know how hard being hurt for you was. I might make mistakes, but I don’t want to hurt you,” you confided.

He shook his head a little.

“I don’t want to hurt you either…”

But speaking of hurt, there was the unspoken ghost in all this wedding talk that needed to be addressed. The one event you secretly dreaded the most. Clutching his arm and turning to him, you tried to think of a way to say it now that you were alone.

“Grigor…” you began, “Now we’re alone, we can talk. For…for uh, tonight, uhm…uh, I…”

You did not get to finish before a serf ran in. Without warning, he half pushed the both of you out. The Emperor and what seemed half of court was seated in the dining room. There was a flurry of huzzahs.

Emperor Peter jumped over the table, knocking over plates and silverware. You leaned out of the way of his flurrying and grabbed Grigor by the shoulder, with a pat on him. You took your seat close to the front and he made his way to your side. Peter leaned back in his chair which was always in the center. No matter what event was going on.

“Well, Grigor- you got yourself a girl at last! hope she gets every penny worth from you tonight!” he bellowed.

“Every penny worth?” you repeated.

He looked at you with a toothy smile and gulped down half of his wine.

“Oh, you should know! The Morgengabe! The Morning’s gift!” he cheered.

A serf poured you water and wine separately to begin with and a few musicians started playing, getting louder and louder.

“That what?” you asked over them.

“The morning, Gift. Its a German idea. Grigor, your wife is a bit of a dolt. At least her tits are decent,” he said.

“What’s the Morning’s gift?” you questioned.

Food began to be served on your plate, but your appetite was starting to decrease. You had a terrible guess at what it referred to. And you had to be sure it was right.

“It’s…uhm…” Grigor began, then he took a deep breath and turned to you, speaking so that you could understand every word.

“After we signed the contract when we were betrothed, there was a word between me, Peter, and your father. The dowry itself was covered. You’re not entering this union as a pauper and should you become a widow, you will have financial protection but…we all had to be sure the marriage was…”

He bit his lips, took in a breath, and continued.

“I gave over some money as promised by your father. It’s being kept with me. That money will be given to you the morning after the marriage is…uh, consummated. That way the alliance will be totally secure. Your family and Peter will know you weren’t just being thrown into a sham marriage that would make the contract weak. If it wasn’t complete, the alliance wouldn’t go through.”

“And the sooner the better!” Peter added, sticking his head between the two of you.

He looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows bawdily with a swirl of his goblet.

“I may just, you know- destroy your home country and chop off your family’s heads just for fun tomorrow because you haven’t fucked your husband!”

He leaned down to see your shocked expression and laughed.

“Well, money and a large cock, you have a lot to look forward to! Huzzah! Now where’s the vodka?”

As he gestured serfs forth to pour vodka into his goblet, you looked over at Grigor.

He took your hand and squeezed it.

“That’s the way it is?” You sighed.

“That’s the way it is here.” He confirmed, noting the worry on your face.

More guests came in. By the dozens. You could hardly even eat a bite or sip some wine or water because they kept wanting to talk to you. You were gladdened by your family and the few you were familiar with.

Then Orlo walked forward. Under his arms were a few books.

“Oh, here he comes again!” Grigor dismissed, rolling his eyes.

You lightly touched his arm, “no, let him speak!”

Orlo gave a slight bow in greeting.

“Why, hello there, Count and Countess Dymov! I’m here because I just wanted to give you a wedding gift…can you read, Countess?”

“I can,” you confirmed.

He handed you each two books.

“It’s mythologies, fairy tales…childish things. But since you are new here, you might find it entertaining to learn a little bit more about our culture. And so might Grigor.”

Grigor flipped through a few pages. He rested on one of a young girl walking through a forest with a branch that had a skull lit with a fire.

“Well, why read about an adventure when you can live it!” Grigor explained.

But you took the books gently and smiled at him.

“That’s very generous of you, Count Orlo! I’m sure my husband…” it was a new word with a taste as strange as their wine… “he would rather I read these to him for his entertainment than annoy him all day,” you teased, leaning over to look at the pictures as well.

“No, I don’t think you could! You’re not the type to annoy, Y/N” he replied. He smiled as he accepted a glass of vodka.

He nudged you and then hissed, “this is our tradition- watch!”

He stood up, but took your hand for you to stand up with him. Heads turned and noise was softened.

“To my new wife! And to my marriage! Huzzah!”

They all yelled “huzzah” back and you felt as if you could glow.

But he downed his vodka and threw his glass on the floor in a swift movement. The other members of court followed suit. There was a splatter of shattering glass like that of hail drops.

Occasionally there were yelps for a kiss. As if being actors on cue, you and Grigor would peck each others lips to their cheers. But not as many as Arkady said would happen.

As your family walked forward to hand you your dog, they had to tiptoe past broken glass as carefully as possible with lifted skirts and on their toes. Empress Catherine even walked from by her husband side to offer you congrats.

“You look very lovely and the ceremony was simple…”

“Oh, we only had a week to…”

“Oh no! I love simple ceremonies! Simple everything! They just mean more! And…are those books? You can read?”

“Yes, a wedding present from Orlo!” you nodded.

Both of you looked over the pages and stories, Catherine filling in with what she knew as you took bites of your dinner with relief. Serfs scurried with brooms to clean up the broken glass. A few dances were thrown and mingling was allowed. Knowing it was safe, you put Sonya in your arms and walked around.

Soon she barked and leaned forward, jumping out. She scurried, catching a bit of a dusky orange dress and chewing it with such passion, she shook it back and forth in her mouth with joy.

“Stop that!” the dress owner cried.

“Hey!” you cried, but right as you leaned down to stop her you recognized whose it was. And you froze with horror.

Georgiana looked as if she could see red as she analyzed you. Sonya panted happily in your arms, but you leaned away from her, as if to shield the creature from anything the Emperor’s mistress might do.

There was a solo violin striking up (Peter attempted to play).

“Well, look at you!” she said with a huff. She seemed only somewhat sad.

“Mademoiselle,” you acknowledged, head down in a curtsy. “Please, do not think me your enemy.”

“You are no threat to me.”

“No, how could I be? You are only our beloved Emperor's favorite. You hold so much prestige here. The ladies all prattle on how envious they are of you. I’ve heard them. I honor you, tremendously.” You started.

She looked at you straight in your eyes, expression unchanged from your words.

“You’re sweet. But so were your wedding cakes. And what do people with cakes? They chew them up into tiny pieces until they spit it out or ingest it until it’s nothing,” she spat.

“If you hurt me or my dog or my family, I will tell my husband about it. I am under the protection of the Dymov house.”

“And I am under the protection of the Emperor.” She replied.

The violin picked up and the Emperor called for a dance.

“Forget it. Let’s move past being like this. I’m not in love with Grigor. I’m only following my family’s orders.”

“That’s not what I see when you kiss him,” she finished as she strutted away.

The Emperor lead a brief speech for Grigor’s honor and to congratulate the marriage and the alliance it entailed. But your husband was having another sip of vodka, face flushing. As you returned to your seat he pulled you close.

“No, no, no…sit here, wifey,” he suggested. He put his hands on your waist and pulled you with immense strength over to his seat to sit on his lap.

You squealed at the closeness, feeling his breath and the outline of his body against yours. But he wrapped arms around you, beginning to kiss your cheek.

“Here, have some of these cakes, darling,” he offered, handing you one of the hundreds of small wedding cakes served for dessert.

Taking a bite, you could make out the density and the perfect amount of sweetness and flavoring.

“They’re…they’re scrumptious! Who made them?”

“Hmm, maybe the cooks. I just wanted to see your reaction to them,” he answered.

His pulled you a little closer, nuzzling into your head, neck, and shoulder area.

“My sweet wifey is soooo cute when she’s sooo happy!”

“Are you sure that isn’t the vodka talking, Grigor?” you retorted cheerfully, noting his glass.

He looked at you. Although his eyes were dilated from drink, he wasn’t a lost cause, at least not yet.

“If I’m not passed out on the floor, Y/N, I’m not drunk!” before taking another sip.

After a little bit longer, there were more songs. He was sobering some, the vodka wearing off as you offered him some water. He drank it as you stayed on his lap.

The songs were getting slower. Plates were clearing. And guests were drifting away. You balled your hands into fists and grabbed the skirt of your gown, trying to slow your breathing.

Your brother, sister-in-law and father excused themselves to take Sonya’s leash and lead her to Grigor’s apartments.

Oh, they’re our apartments now you silently corrected yourself.

Catherine and your mother came by. Grigor perked up and gently led you off of him.

“Y/N, Catherine offered to be with you when we lead you there,” your mother began.

Thanking with a curtsy, you left Grigor and followed them slightly behind to Dymov’s room. But looking behind, you admired Catherine glancing back at you with a smile and making small talk to her about books. She seemed so young despite the grandeur of her title. It was like she was just a friend of yours attending your big day.

They walked you over to the Dymov apartment. It seemed ominous with it’s red and the nighttime darkening everything thought the windows. The little dog barked and skipped in happiness when you walked in.

“Hello Sonya!” you said.

She wiggled her tail in greeting, little fuzz ball. Mariol walked forward, smiling. She seemed to look lighter and happier, spending time with little Sonya.

Your mother and Catherine unbuttoned you and pulled you dress over your head and removed the rolls from your hips. Mariol began to unlace your stays from behind.

“I…I’m so nervous I can hardly even think!” you confessed.

“Y/N, you have nothing to fear, really.” Catherine assured.

“It will be fine,” your mother assured, taking your hand.

“But…what if he…he hurts me. What if he…he rapes me. I’ve heard about that happening on wedding nights and…that’s what scares me the most.”

Catherine took your shoulder and squeezed it.

“You can tell me, and I’ll punish him. The Emperor won’t know and if you’re in danger, you can run to me. Wake me up in my chambers. I don’t care.”

“Does it…hurt when it happens?” you ask.

“When you’re new, sometimes. Especially when they are more...enthusiastic. But just a little. And not everyone feels pain the first time.” Your mother informed you.

Stays removed, Mariol began to undo your hair and wipe off what makeup was there with a cloth. You felt your hair fall down. Part of you wanted a blanket or a robe. You were in the Empress’s presence with only a shift on.

“What if I can’t…please him?” you asked.

Georgiana’s voice from earlier this week had haunted your mind considering tonight. If you did not perform well or even perform at all, you might be considered a failure to Grigor and even to your family, you feared. 

Yet, why did the thought of Grigor, no, your husband scorning you for his past lover make your stomach burn with envy?

“Don’t worry, it will be alright. Just tell him ‘no’ or ‘yes’, be firm and clear. You don’t have please him…just enjoy being with him, getting to know him,” your mother directed.

“It will be okay,” Catherine repeated. 

She guided your hand and you both sat on the edge of the bed. She grinned at you and you shyly smiled back.

A few minutes ticked by. Then male voices were right outside. Your heart leaped to your throat and you felt your legs freeze. Your hold on Catherine turned to a grip.

Then came the fateful sound.

There was a knock on the door.

The three of you jumped almost.

“Who is it?” Catherine asked.

“It’s Grigor, and the Emperor.”

Taking in a shaky breath, you said “you may come in.”

Grigor walked in next to Peter, who was flushed and stumbling a bit in his walk. Catherine handed you a deep green robe to wrap around yourself for a bit of modesty, seeing how embarrassed you already were at people seeing you in your shift. The three of you curtsied and the two men bowed, Peter staying low and then swaggering over to a chair. He flopped down on it, leg over an arm, and started blowing a little bird whistle.

You noticed Grigor was still in his wedding outfit and held a glass decanter of vodka and two large glasses

“Only a little while ago you were playing that,Grigor, when I was fucking the Empress on our wedding night, remember! Now we…we’ve fucking switched and now here we are!” Peter announced, blowing another shriek that erupted in spit across the floor.

Grigor walked forward and kissed your knuckles in greeting. It only struck you how handsome he was. He had a charming smile and the dark colors flattered him. He put an arm protectively over you and turned to the small group

“Thank you, everyone, it was a lovely ceremony,” he began.

“Count Dymov, do you need us to do anything?” your mother asked.

“No, mother,” he added, “and you may call me Grigor. For now, I hope you think of me as if I was a member of your family too.”

She grinned in return and addressed him by name.

“Phlah! Names shames,” Peter mocked, twirling the whistle with his fingers. Catherine looked at him with eyes wide and eyebrows down.

“How about we all have a toast to today!” Grigor announced, Holding up the decanter.

He handed a glass over to the emperor and then a glass between you both.

“I say our Emperor goes first, as our ruler and sovereign,” he suggested, pouring an extremely generous amount of vodka in the cup while giving his own only a dribble.

“I say yes! Hu—zaaaaah!” Peter cried, sucking up the vodka in a heartbeat. Grigor shared his glass with you so you could have a sip of the stuff before he finished it up.

Looking up at him, he gave you a glimmer in his eye. And you caught on.

“And let’s have a toast to the alliance! And our beloved Emperor for allowing it to happen. Huzzah!” you toasted, raising your glass.

On cue, Grigor poured another heap of vodka into Peter’s glass which he raised and swallowed down as if he were a thirsty beggar.

“Huzzzahhh f-for meeeeee,” Peter mumbled.

His face became even redder and he struggled to get out of his seat.

“Shit, w-why is everyone spinning! I order you to-to stay still!” he barked.

Everyone was already perfectly still. Catherine walked over and supported him over her shoulder.

“Let’s retire, shall we?”

“N-no! I want to…I want to watch G-G-Grigor f-f-f-uck her so I c-can…can have a good wank at it, a-at least, and m-m-maybe get my turntofuckher….ohmyfuckI’m going to vomit,” Peter announced. He ran out in a heartbeat and you heard him retch in the hallway outside.

And then the noise of his body falling on the floor.

“I will take him to his chambers,” Catherine offered.

Her eyes were alight and her pink lips tight from holding back laughter. Mariol placed an arm over her mouth as well and scurried out behind the empress. There were several footsteps and the huffing of serfs and you knew that Peter now had to be carried unconscious-and far away.

“I believe I must retire as well, good night,” your mother said.

They dismiss and leave. Now you were both alone. Your heart was racing, but you smiled and turned to Grigor in gratitude.

“That was brilliant.” You praised.

“I did have a feeling he’d want to do that. So I decided to do something about it. The vodka did get to me a little earlier,” he confessed. “But It’s worn up.”

You nodded, “yes, of course. I can tell.”

“Do you…need anything? Some water?”

“Of course.”

He walked over and got you a fresh glass poured from a crystalline pitcher. You washed away the bitter sting of vodka from your mouth and so did he. Both of you sat across from each other on the two chairs before the fire. At first all was quiet.

“Y/N…I know all of this had not happened the way we thought but…you have the support. My support. The Russian Crown. And my house and of the Dymov family, as well as our protection. You’re…you’re one of us now, it’s your right as a countess,” he promised.

I’m not Y/F/N Y/L/N anymore. I’m Y/F/N Dymov. You thought. Still unused to it.

“Thank you. I know I was quiet, but so much has been happening, today. I don’t know quite what to say,” you replied.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

You finished your water and he finished his. Another silence.

“You looked very handsome in your coat today, you’re a lovely man,” you complimented. He looked especially lovely with the fire’s glow against his face.

“Thank you, but I’m starting to get…a bit uncomfortable. May I take dress down to my shift?” he asked

“You may.”

He opened the door and brought the old man serf. The old man took away his shoes, stockings, coat, shirt, wig, and everything else, setting them away, until he was only in his shift and a pair of white breeches.

Though you stared away from him, focusing on the empty glass in your hand. He walked forward as soon as the old man set away the clothes and exited.

“Y/N…you’re tense. Are you…nervous?” he asked, kneeling down to be at your level.

You nodded, not even looking at him.

“Yes. I was scared you would…force yourself on me,” you voiced. “It’s what I was going to tell you earlier.”

He walked forward to you and put two of his hands on your shoulders, but not heavily.

“Y/N, I won’t do that…you can’t please a woman by forcing yourself on her and I…I didn’t want to displease you. I told you earlier, I don’t want to hurt you.” He reminded.

Your shoulders relaxed.

“I didn’t want to displease you either. Its just…I…I’ve never slept with anyone before. You’ve probably seen the file form the doctor we gave to Archie. There. The proof. And I…I’m just…I’m just nervous.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous as well,” he comforted.

You thought of the Morning gift, of your duty …but you noticed the outline of his body through the shift. And every time you found your eyes go to his face, they would go back to his body.

Your eyes noticed that the books from Orlo were on a desk in the corner.

“What about these?” you said.

Grigor brought them to you. You passed a bit of time flipping through them. The illustrations, even he admitted, were lovely. You both studied it, asking which tales he was familiar with, and what stories you knew of. The tiredness got to you slightly and as you both sat on the chair as he sat down beside you, you laid your head against his shoulder a little sleepily.

Sonya slept deeply in the corner. She laid down on a soft pillow, her belly full of roast chicken from the feast, and legs twitching as if chasing something. Then she woke up a bit and wandered over to the next room to sleep.

Grigor closed the book and raised your chin to meet his face.

“I think I’d like reading more if it was with you, can we…we move to bed? You seem a little tired,” he said.

“We can.”

Both of you settled into the sheets. You sighed at the warmth of the blankets over you.

“Russia’s every bit as cold as you said,” you jested

“Then can I hold you, to keep you warm…just to make you comfortable.”

“You can.”

He wrapped his arms around you. The fire cackled in the distance and you could make out a ticking clock somewhere else in the room. Both of you laid down on your sides, looking at each other. He felt nice compared to the cold air everywhere else in the apartment.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N? I guess for…for duty. Nothing else has to happen until you’re ready.”

“You can. For our duty.”

He kissed you passionately, deeply. Something inside you made you grab him. You didn’t feel like you wanted to push him away. It was a tight embrace. You liked kissing him. Kissing him had set you on fire, something in your was waking up suddenly. You put your arms around him to deepen it.

Then you let go. You were almost afraid of this wanting. You liked touching him, almost too much. You could notice the top of his shift moving around, showing a bit of his chest.

“Let me kiss you two more times, please…for the alliance’s sake.”

“I’ll let you,” you said.

He leaned down for the first one, but instinctively rolled on top of you. You gasped.

“I…I’m sorry…am I crushing you?” he asked, shrinking away.

“No…it just surprised me. It’s not bad…”

“I don’t know what came over me.”

Then you smiled, and there was a new voice coming out of you.

“That was still one kiss, though. You own me another one.”

He kissed you again. Your hand went to his chest, lightly touching it.

“I…I’ve seen statues, but I’ve never seen a man in only his shift before…” you admitted.

“You can explore, you can touch me” he smirked.

You hands explored his neck, his shoulders, and then began tracing his chest again, and one to his back.

“Grigor…it’s for Russia but…I want you to touch me…”

His head tilted and he blinked rapidly.

“To touch you?”

“I… I…I trust you…”

“Well, if it’s for business…I will.”

You began to trace him more and he let his hands wander over you as well. You traced his neck down to around his shoulder and arm, feeling how each place rose up and went down. When you got to his hands, you put each of your fingers into the crooks of his- hands interlaced. He moved from kissing your lips to your cheeks, and then your neck. It was new and strange, tingling. But you liked it too much to push it away. And when he shifted to be more on top of you-but not his full body-you liked it too much to not stop it either. And every time you felt a small touch or kiss end, you wanted more.

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

Once it was over, he rolled off, both of you lazily staring at the ceiling and catching your breath.

Then you looked at him with swollen lips, undone hair, and wide eyes. And he looked at you. 

You began to laugh. And he laughed too in tandem.

“I was terrified of that! What was I thinking!” you said, looking over at him. The previous fear had melted away.

“It’s always terrifying when you do it first, even with a new person. But…you’re…you’re good.” Grigor commented.

The air from around felt cold. The fire was dying down and who knew what hour it was. Your two shifts remained crumpled on the floor like ghostly puddles.

“Could you…could you hold me?” you asked coquettishly, leaning towards him.

“Hmm, let me think about that...”

“Please? It’s getting cold.” you added, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles.

He leaned over to pull you close. He felt very warm, and sweaty. But you did not mind.

“I…I think we might find a way for this to work…” he murmured.

“Yes, I…I agree.”

He pulled you into his chest. Your eyes saw the small hairs and the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I remember…when I would wake up in the morning, and…I’d hate it,” he recalled, looking up at the ceiling again.

“Why?” you ask.

Tracing his chest, drawing little figures into it. He let you rest your head on his arm. It was getting darker and darker, the candles in the room were dying and giving out bit by bit.

“I’d just feel…alone…” he confessed. He looked over to you, eyes a little dark from the memory.

“Not anymore, Grigor. I’ll make sure of it. You won’t be alone with me.”

It is quiet and peaceful. You both fall asleep deeply.

At one point you wake up briefly, only to see Grigor talking to the old man serf, but he turns to you and shushes.

“It’s early-get some more sleep, Y/N. It was a long day yesterday,” he whispers to you. You see some tiredness in his eyes as well.

You lay your head back down without a word. You fall back asleep.

The light of a later part of the morning fills up the flat when you open your eyes again. Turning around, Grigor is wearing his shift, but still, fast asleep. He must have woken up, put it on, and then drift back into dreaming.

Watching him for a while, it seems he won’t be waking for some time. Even though sunlight is coming out of the windows with the strong glare of mid-morning.

You pull on your shift and your old green robe, you move over to where a tray was set with complimentary coffee in a fancy porcelain set and certain pastries with a note of congratulations from someone’s Aunt Elisabeth or other. But before you can even pour a cup or try a crumb, something catches your eye.

There is an envelope on the tray and when you open it there is some money.

You had forgotten about the morning gift completely.

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[anomander-dragnipurake]

Junior

Just and idea about why Bowser might've told Junior that Peach was his mother.

~

She’d left him, gone back to her kingdom an ocean away. Which was fine, they’d done their best to make it work but it just wasn’t no matter how good a match Kamek and her parents had insisted it was supposed to be. So Bowser was honestly relieved she’s taken the initiative and finally ended it by leaving in the middle of the night. Her only farewell was a letter, explaining her reasons for leaving and a gift.

In a plain unwrapped box, she’d left it on the table in his room. The letter warned that it was fragile and oddly had apologized for leaving it with him. Which didn’t make much sense; if it was something bad enough she had to apologize for it, why leave a gift at all? And even more why had she assured him that it was his? Who else could it possibly be for?

Pulling back the lids of the box revealed an oblong shape, a bit bigger than his fist and wrapped in a soft cloth resting on a cushion. Keeping in mind its fragility, he carefully lifted it with one hand to unwrap it with the other. … An egg. Why would she leave him an egg? It didn’t make sense unless it was…

“Ah shit!”

That couldn’t be it though, could it? She’d have told him, right? … Maybe not, they’d never talked much and thus he didn’t know her as well as one think despite their arranged marriage having lasted almost three whole years before one of them had finally taken the initiative and left.

Shaking a little, he carefully placed the egg back on its cushion. He then rushed back over to his nightstand where he’d left the letter to reread it. … Suddenly her apology for the gift and the assurance that it was his made a lot more sense.

Growling, he balled up the paper and tossed it. She was a deadbeat, leaving him to raise their child on his own, how dare she? Whatever, he didn’t need her, he could do it on his own just fine so she could go fuck herself for all he cared.

A good deal of his anger and resolve faded though as he returned to the table to look down at the egg, nestled snugly on the cushion, the soft cloth still partially wrapped around it. How the hell was he supposed to do this alone? He wasn’t ready to be a dad yet. That wasn’t supposed to happen for a few more years at least.

Holding back a groan, he returned to his nightstand again to ring the magic bell to summon Kamek. About a minute later Kamek arrived through the secret passageway that connected his lab to Bowser’s room.

“Sir?” he said as the wall closed behind him.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now.” With the way rumors normally ran through the castle, Bowser was likely one of the last to find out because there was no way she’d snuck out without someone seeing her. Whoever had spotted her would’ve told everyone long before Bowser had even woken up this morning.

“Yes, I’ve heard. You want me to send people after her?”

“No, why would I want you do that? I’m glad she’s gone.” Or at least he would be if the sole thing they could both enjoy together hadn’t led to his current predicament. They should’ve been more careful but… it was too late now and she’d left him to deal with the consequences alone. “She left me this though.” Carefully, Bowser pulled the egg out again to show Kamek.

“Oh uh… I suppose you have an heir now sir, which was the whole point of the arrange marriage so congrats.”

“What do you mean ‘congrats’? How am I supposed to handle this?”

“Very carefully sir, especially once the shell hardens. That’s when it’ll be its most fragile.”

Bowser growled at him. “You know what I meant. How am I supposed to take care of a kid?”

“Well, I can tell you from experience it is very difficult to raise a child, especially as a single parent. If they end up being anything like you were as a kid, you’ll certainly have your work cut out for you. However, you do have the option to give it up for adoption or hire a nanny to do all the work for you. So really sir, you don’t have to raise them if you’d prefer not to.”

Both of those were options. Going the adoption route, he’d have to be very secretive about it to mitigate the chances of rumors about this popping up. The nanny route would probably be easiest and no one would fault him for it, he already had enough responsibility ruling his kingdom without adding raising a child on top of that. But… it didn’t feel right to do that, not for him anyway.

“No,” he said as he pulled the egg closer to his chest. Its shell was still soft and so fragile. It’d be far too easy to damage it by accident. But despite that… “I’m keeping them and raising myself. Their name is… Bowser; Bowser Junior.” Regardless of whatever their gender would end up being, he wanted to name them after himself. “So help me. You’ve supposedly done this before,” his parents had died before he’d even hatched, leaving Kamek as his sole caretaker, “tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

“For now, just keep the egg warm and dry. Near but not right next to a space heater should do nicely. Talk to them occasionally, especially as they get closer to hatching. When they hatch is when the real works begins, that won’t be for a year or more though so there’s plenty of time to prepare for that.”

A year, that’s how long Bowser had to prepare for his role as a single father. That both felt like a long time and a terribly short time. There was nothing that could be done about it though. “Very well,” he said as he looked back up at Kamek. “Bring me a space heater and something to act as a cradle, either through the secret passage or teleport it straight here so one sees. I want this kept a secret for now.” He’d have to announce it eventually but not yet. He needed some time to prepare for that announcement and he wanted to wait for the rumors about his now ex-wife leaving to have died down a little.

“Yes sir.” Kamek was the only one in the whole castle who could be trusted to keep a secret. “And well… I’m proud of you for taking on this responsibility. I believe you’ll be a good father.” With that, he turned and left through the secret passage.

“I hope so,” Bowser replied with a sigh as the hidden door closed, becoming a wall once more.

 -

Over the next few months, he got used to the idea of being a dad. He talked to Junior every day, in the morning upon waking up and at night before going to bed. There was still one thing that bothered him though.

“You need another parent,” he said as he sat down by the egg cradle one night. He’d had Kamek get him some parenting books to act as another source of information on what do about raising a kid and they’d mentioned that two or more parents was the ideal. More would probably be better, right? But he personally preferred the idea of a monogamous relationship and finding one good partner would be difficult enough, let alone any more. “So I’m going to get you one before you hatch, all right? You’ll love them I’m sure.” Hopefully anyway.

The next day, he set Kamek the task of complying as much information about the rulers of all the nearby kingdoms as was possible. Marrying a fellow monarch made the most sense, right? It would expand the lands they both ruled and would give Junior more to inherit when it came time for them to do so.

It took almost a whole week before Kamek returned to him with what he’d found. He’d organized it in large blank binder that he handed to Bowser in his room because despite everything, Bowser hadn’t announced Junior’s existence or his new marriage plans to the world yet.

Each page in the binder was devoted to a layout of information about the primary ruler of all a nearby kingdom, such as name, age, gender, a picture of course, marriage status, and a paragraph of general personality information and backstory. The first page was for King Bomb-omb. He had an attractive mustache and a decent bio but he was already married. After that was King Boo but he was dead and therefore not likely to be a good step parent and the weird tongue thing boos had going on was not something Bowser was into. Queen Bean would’ve been a good option but she too was married.

The fourth page was the profile for the Mushroom Kingdom ruler: Princess Peach Toadstool. Finally, someone who was single and alive but… “If she’s the ruler of the Mushroom King why is she still a princess and why is she human? Isn’t the Mushroom Kingdom populated by Toads?”

“According to what I’ve been able to gather,” Kamek replied, “she was adopted by the former ruler at a young age and declared the heir of the kingdom. However, Toad law is strange, for reasons I haven’t been able to figure out, the actual title of ‘queen’ can only be held by a Toad. Despite that, Princess Toadstool is no less ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom. It doesn’t make much sense but that’s pretty standard when discussing Toads.”

Bowser grunted because that was certainly true; the bastards all had names that started with ‘Toad’ which was just plain nonsensical. “And they’re all right with their ruler being human despite that law? Really?” Wouldn’t they want a proper queen?

“Supposedly she is a very good and kind ruler so yes, they’re more than happy to have her as their ruler.”

“Hmmm…” Bowser looked back down at her profile. Everything Kamek had just told him was written there as well some more about her generosity. She was young too, around the human equivalent of his own age – based off what he’d heard of how humans aged anyway. … “I want her,” he decided, tapping her picture with his claw. “She’s perfect.” Her kingdom directly bordered his and Junior deserved a kind mother, especially since Bowser had trouble being kind himself.

“Of course, sir. Would you like me to send an envoy with a message about your intent to court her? Or would you like to write the missive yourself?”

“I’ll just take an airship down there to talk to her myself.” Bowser didn’t have time for letters and all that nonsense. He needed to make sure she’d be good mom and then marry her before Junior hatched which was still several months away but undoubtedly those months would pass by in flash.

***

“Welcome back Your Majesty,” Kamek said as ascended the airship’s boarding ramp to greet Bowser. “How did things go in the Mushroom Kingdom?” As if that needed to be asked with how short a time Bowser had been gone and the less than happy look on his face; he’d clearly been rejected. Which was not surprising in the least and now it would be Kamek’s job to soothe his ego for however long he chose to be grumpy about this.

“Uh… it went well,” Bowser said which was a surprise. “Sort of anyway, really depends on what counts as ‘going well’.” Oh no, he’d done something less than smart, hadn’t he? Bad enough to start a war with the Mushroom Kingdom? Before Kamek could try to find an innocuous way to ask…

“Untie me this instant you horrible people!”

A group of koopatroopas and shy guys were dragging a bound woman out of the captain’s cabin. Naturally she was quite displeased about it as was not going easily.

“Uh… sir, is that Princess Toadstool?” Kamek asked because it looked an awful lot like her pictures.

“Yep,” Bowser said before raising his voice to instruct the minions carrying her. “Take her up to one of the tower top rooms, one of the ones with the lock on the outside. And keep a guard on the door at all times too just in case. Untie her though, I don’t want her to hurt herself.”

“Yes sir!” the minions spoke in unison before hustling to do as ordered.

“You won’t get away with this,” the princess shouted over them, earning more excited murmurs from the minions who’d gathered to watch.

With a sigh, Kamek turned back to look at Bowser again. “May I have a word with you in private Your Royal Spikiness?”

“Fine but make it quick, I got to prepare a proper greeting for my guest.” With a huff, Bowser led the way back onto the airship and into the private cabin. “Now what is it?” he demanded after slamming the door shut.

“Sir, may I ask why you chose to kidnap Princess Toadstool? I was under the impression you’d gone to court her.” Kamek kept his tone neutral in part because he wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. There were benefits to having a rival kingdom’s ruler held hostage but Bowser’s supposed goals might just lead to a huge mess instead. Still though, even that might be exciting, things had been too peaceful and boring lately.

“I did but she rejected my engagement offer. I tried to change her mind because I’d already gone all the way down there but she still said ‘no’ so I may have gotten a little mad and just grabbed her and brought her to the airship. I’m sure she’ll change her mind eventually, I’m the Koopa King after all, who can say ‘no’ to me?”

Ah yes, the good old ‘I want it so it’s mine,’ logic that Bowser liked to employ. Really it was Kamek’s fault for letting him get away with that so much growing up. There was no point telling him that there was no possible way she’d change her mind after this. But that wasn’t much of a bother especially since unless she did something to really piss him off, he’d get tired of the game after a while anyway.

“Now,” Bowser said, his tone indicating the end of the conversation, “help me prepare a welcome party for her. The sooner she changes her mind, the better. And I need to figure out if she’ll be a good stepmom to Junior.”

[One Mario Game Later]

“Fuck that fucking Mario bastard,” Bowser growled for probably the fourth time in the past hour as he got up from his throne to pace angrily back and forth again. “Who does he think he is, breaking in my castle and stealing back my princess?”

“Yes, fuck him Your Royal Furiousness,” Kamek replied in a deadpan as he inspected his handiwork in fixing his bent wand – he had spares of course but magic wands took a lot of effort to make so one getting damaged was aggravating. Personally, he was more frustrated than angry as anyone would be after getting trounced by a man who all sources indicated was just a plumber. But yelling, swearing, and pacing around the room wasn’t going to fix it and at this point was getting quite old.

Bowser huffed and spit out a stream of fire, thankfully not onto anything flammable. “Mark my words Kamek, this isn’t over! I’m going to kidnap Peach again and then if and when that red bastard shows up, I’m going crush him into the ground. And then the princess will be mine.”

“Yes sir.” Honestly Kamek was fine with that. The kingdom had clearly been at peace for too long; the troops were all inexperienced or rusty. Also, Kamek’s work thrived during conflict, testing new spells and/or new inventions worked best when it was a proper field test. So, both for his liege’s sake as well as his own, he was going to do his best to make sure they ultimately came out on top of this new conflict.

[franstastic-ideas]

I’m Telling the Tooth!

Underfell AU - Sans’s gold tooth gets knocked out during a physical confrontation with a rude human. Unfortunately for him, this means a trip to the dentist’s, and Asgore isn’t the only monster that feels uneasy about dental work. Anesthesia is required for the procedure, and when he wakes up, he makes a lot of loving claims about her that Frisk can’t really believe are true. He says he likes her. He really likes her. He loves her. He wants to marry her. He’s skipping more than a few integral steps of the courting process.

Word Count: 15,829

Warnings: An attempted kidnapping and assault, one instance of a minor curse word, and at one point late into the story it seems as though the narrative will begin to veer into themes of suicide.

Other than that, this is pure fluff with a small spoonful of angst.

It had began as what was supposed to have been a relatively simple shopping trip at the local mall.

 But it had ended as anything but that.

 Frisk had taken the skeleton brothers along with her because they insisted on tagging along, telling her they had some errands to run as well. Except the two had never been out in public quite like this since coming to the surface and they stuck by her like baby chicks to their mother. After about an hour of this, she had finally managed to squeeze away from them long enough to use the restroom.

 It was after she exited the restroom and was finding her way back that the trouble began.

 “Hey. You. Pretty girl.”

 She continued walking; whoever it was that spoke had obviously not been speaking to her.

 “Hey, I’m talking to you. Where you going, baby?” A man with a somewhat muscular build abruptly stepped out from his hiding place and in front of her, blocking her way with a smile and a gleam in his eye that made her insides churn with unease.

 “Um, I…” Even after her adventures in the Underground, she still wasn’t good at dealing with confrontation.

 But then again, she knew that monsters really were different than humans. The monsters she had dealt with on her journey had been at times violent, hateful, and rude, but so were a sizable portion of humans. The grand difference between them was, the monsters had understandable reasons for their unscrupulous behavior. Humans, more often than not, didn’t need a reason.

 And Frisk never liked to judge anyone by their appearance or judge to quickly on the first impression, but she could tell from a single glance and the manner in which that one question was said that this man was nothing but a troublemaking creep.

 She needed to get away from this guy, maybe alert someone of her presence, but didn’t it just figure that he would approach her when next to no one was around?

 “How about you and I go somewhere quiet together, huh?”

 He reached out to touch her, perhaps take her by the arm, but she quickly sidestepped him.

 “Leave me alone.” She gave him the most disinterested glare that she could muster, but he had the gaul to laugh at her.

 “Oh, you’re a feisty girl! I like that. It’s no fun when they don’t fight back a little.”

 She’d had enough of this nonsense. Frisk slipped past him, but she didn’t get very far before her arm was grabbed harshly, fingernails digging painfully into the flesh and her entire body was yanked backwards and pressed roughly into his chest. She thrashed and squirmed furiously, attempting to kick, bite, punch and scratch to escape his grip with little results. He laughed cruelly at her, his other hand reaching over to clench her shoulder tightly with enough force that she was certain it would leave more bruises. She took a breath, ready to shout for help, but he clamped his other hand over her mouth and hissed,

 “You try to scream, and I’ll snap your neck right here.” This man definitely had the build to do so, and she didn’t want to find out if he was bluffing or not. “Now when I move my hand, are you going to try to scream?”

 She furiously shook her head, her heart and SOUL thumping wildly in her chest out of fear.

 “Good girl. Now, you’re gonna pretend that you’re my girl. So quit squirming around and looking so miserable before people start staring. You’ve got an awfully pretty face, and it’d be a shame if you forced me to break it.”

 Once he removed his hand from her mouth, it shifted to her now aching shoulder, to her back, all the way down her spine, and then the small of her back. Thankfully, he didn’t get to move his hand any lower before…

 Frisk heard her captor let out a pained yowl and she was immediately released. Disentangling herself from the loose hold around her that remained, she came face to face with one of the skeletons she had left behind just minutes earlier in another part of the store. Sans had caught the man’s wandering hand and was bending it backwards at an angle that was sure to be uncomfortable.

 “now, i understand more than anybody that babydoll here’s got a gorgeous rear view…” Frisk would have normally scolded him for such a crude statement, but the sheer venom in his voice had shocked her into silence for the moment. “but, that don’t mean you can jus’ go and grab her anywhere any ol’ way you like.”

 Sans began twisting his arm as if it had the same flexible properties as rubber, his expression appearing at first glance to be the very image of calmness, but the anger bubbling underneath and in his tone was eerily evident if one were to take another look. Normally, he allowed his expressions to twist and fluctuate with his emotions. Normally, he permitted his volume to gradually rise and fall along with his temper. Sans’s expression, an uncomfortably wide toothy smile accompanied by violently trembling red pinpricks which served as his pupils that were just barely visible in the blackness of his large eye sockets still seemed far too relaxed, and his words were spoken in an intonation that seemed far too soft for him to use in this particular situation. It was a tranquil fury, a type of anger that was entirely foreign to him, and Frisk couldn’t recall ever having seen him this enraged before in her somewhat short, but incredibly eventful time of knowing Sans. And this terrifying display of emotion was brought about entirely due to concern over her wellbeing.

 “sweethearts like her need to be treated sweetly, and gently…”

 They both could hear the slight creaking sound coming from the man’s wrist. Frisk was aware of how ironic it was that he was twisting and flailing around in the same fashion as she had previously in his attempts to free himself from Sans’s grip. She wondered when it was that the man would turn to violence, but she didn’t have to ponder this thought long before he stopped struggling and balled his free hand into a fist. He swung at Sans’s face, right between the eyes, but the skeleton dodged it with ease. Sans had let go of his wrist, but rather than run, the man was instead looking for a fight, and it seemed her monster friend was more than willing to comply with his foolish wishes.

 Frisk was torn between leaving the scene to find Papyrus and staying to see how things between the two turned out. She knew there was no use in trying to end the skirmish herself - she could ease Sans out of a dispute herself whenever one arose with some kindness, gentle persuasion, and determination, but he was out for blood and beyond reasoning with.

 Sans was taking this personally; that man had his filthy hands all over his sweetheart, and Sans had been anticipating the first sign of aggression he could find so he could have an excuse to retaliate.

 In the end, either option wasn’t possible for Frisk. A crowd of shoppers had paused in their browsing to gather and watch the impending strife, and she had become trapped among the mass of people. She couldn’t see what was happening anymore due to her height, and she couldn’t move past them to find Papyrus either. She hoped that Papyrus would eventually notice the sudden absence of shoppers in whatever store he was currently in if not the surrounding chaos and intervene himself.

 Once the fight had began, the man couldn’t seem to land any hits on Sans; the skeleton ducked, dodged, and swerved out of every punch thrown his way and then Sans would take advantage of any openings left to inflict damage himself. He didn’t need to use any magic – laws had been recently created limiting the use of monster’s magic in public, but it wasn’t like he cared anything about that. Sans could wipe the floor with him without relying on his supernatural powers, and that was exactly one of the pieces of information about himself he was making abundantly clear. The next being that Frisk was his human, and this particular human was gonna pay for treating her like some sort of cheap toy that was meant to break.

 Eventually, though, Sans grew weary. Not tired, just bored. His opponent’s attacks were far too predictable. He couldn’t just walk away from an important fight like this, though, so he resolved to be creative to keep things interesting. So at some point during the fight, Sans pulled out a pair of glasses from his hoodie pocket that he had taken from somewhere when he had briefly teleported mid-dodge, being most likely unpaid for (they still had the price tag displayed on the frames), and put them on. He even had enough time and plenty to spare to tape them to his skull so they wouldn’t fall off.

 “you wouldn’t hit a guy with glasses, would ya?”

 MISS

 “you couldn’t hit a guy with glasses!”

 MISS

 He was actively messing with the man now. He almost would have felt a twinge of sympathy for him if he hadn’t rough-handled Frisk and wasn’t a complete creep that was caught preying on women when they were alone. Sans could understand the manly desire to display some aggressive romantic advances, but he paid particular attention to and had learned how to pick up on the mood of his lady and knew when to really back off when his flirting wasn’t appreciated. This human needed to be taught his place, and that the beating he was being put through was just a gentle warning compared to what would have happened if Sans hadn’t shown up when he did.

 Frisk had finally managed to wiggle herself towards the front of the clamoring audience, cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting over their whoops and howls,

 “Sans!”

 “yeah, dolly?” His tone was casual but still attentive, not turning his head towards her when he spoke as he leapt away from another swing of the man’s fist.

 She wanted to tell him to stop, that the guy wasn’t worth it, and Sans could get into trouble with the law for what he was doing even though he had initially only been trying to defend her. Instead, she found herself asking,

 “How did you even get here so fast?!”

 “i was lookin’ for ya.”

 “I was gone for five minutes!”

 “which was four minutes and thirty seconds too long ta be without ya.”

 Ever since they had left the Underground, Sans had practically been attached to her at the hip. She barely had a moment to herself anymore. Papyrus and some of her other monster friends were similar in wanting to occupy all of her time, but none of them could even hold a candle to Sans.

 Frisk remembered when this possessive streak of his first began to show itself; he had stopped her in the Judgement Hall, begging, pleading with her not to leave them – not to leave him. Only two foreseeable fates lied in front of her then should she continue with the last leg of her journey; defeat Asgore and return to the surface, or be killed continuously by the king of monsters. Sans was one of the select few that knew of the true nature behind her temporal powers, but it didn’t matter to him if she could simply load after each of her demises. He didn’t want Asgore to kill her and he didn’t want her to go somewhere where he would never see her again.

 She had made him care again, and then she was going to leave him.

 He had finally relented and allowed her passage, but he wouldn’t let her go without a fight. He would never take her life like all the other monsters had, no, but Sans was determined to keep her with him, and he would do anything within his power to make that possible. With each instance he dropped her HP down to 1, he would then incapacitate her and carry Frisk all the way back to Snowdin, muttering how this was for the best and what he was doing was done out of love. This process repeated, over and over again, an uncountable number of times, until finally she had learned to predict his attack patterns and in turn caused him to use up his magic until he was near ready to collapse.

 She could have ran past him and left him there, a screaming sobbing wreck, but she didn’t. She had taken that opportunity to instead comfort him, reassure him that he and everyone else wouldn’t be trapped Underground forever and she would do everything to ensure that they would one day reach the surface. His expression then told her he didn’t believe her, but he had reluctantly let her go.

 Frisk was the catalyst for everything good that has happened recently in his life; he and Papyrus making up after several years’ worth of senseless arguments and hurling petty insults towards each other, Alphys and Undyne finally speaking to each other as equals when both were too caught up in their pride to do so, Mettaton and Napstablook apologizing to each other first in private then on live television, thus putting their past estrangement behind them… Frisk was responsible for it all.

 And now she had granted him and every other monster a life of freedom here on the surface, just as she had promised.

 She was important to him, and she knew that, but Frisk couldn’t even begin to fathom just how much value her life and happiness truly meant to Sans.

 So much so that sometimes it nearly drove him mad.

 The throng then began to shuffle around boisterously with the action, some laughing at Sans’s antics while pushing and shoving each other to get a better view of the spectacle. Someone standing next to Frisk elbowed her a bit too hard in the ribs and she accidentally let out a yelp.

 Sans immediately froze, his focus drawn away from the fight as he whipped his head towards the direction he heard Frisk cry out, but couldn’t see her.

 “sweetheart?”

 That was all the hesitation his opponent needed; the man he had been walloping for the past five minutes took this moment to strike Sans directly in the mouth, probably because he had been taunting and insulting him throughout the entirety of the match. Sans stumbled backwards, moving one hand to hold the affected area and felt something wet there – pulling his hand back revealed it was stained with red magic, his own magic.

 If he still had a mere HP value of 1, that would have killed him.

 The idiot, the absolute buffoon, then made the fatal mistake of gloating over his accomplishment, one successful strike against the monster compared to the dozens Sans had effectively delivered, but he was instantly silenced when Sans reeled back and punched him just as hard in the solar plexus, sending the man hurtling towards the ground. He fell, and it didn’t look like he would be getting back up anytime soon.

 Ignoring his pain and the garbage on the floor, Sans bolted towards the crowd and began tossing people aside haphazardly and without care until he found Frisk. He took her face in his large skeletal hands and pulled her close, wobbling eyelights worriedly searching her form for any signs of injury.

 “babydoll! you okay? i heard you shout.”

 “Yes, I’m fine. Someone just accidentally elbowed me a little too hard in all the excitement…” She then gasped, eyes wide and hands clasped over her own mouth. “Oh my stars! Sans! Y-Your tooth!”

 “my wha-” He then ran his glowing red tongue, made of magic, over his teeth and noticed one was missing – his gold one.

 “That piece of-” He growled, wrapping one protective arm around Frisk in case the man woke up again to harass them as he scanned the floor for his missing tooth.

 It didn’t take long for him to find it, the deep lustrous yellow contrasting against the marble white of the floor. He picked it up and pocketed it, still clinging to Frisk as he did so. Once that was done, his attention was instantly shifted back onto her.

 He took her by the hands, rubbing soothing little circles with his bony thumbs over her knuckles. “sweetheart, ‘m so sorry i was late... did that walking mixture of crap and raw sewage hurt you?!”

 When she had been grabbed, it certainly hadn’t felt good, but after taking in the complete thrashing Sans had given to her assailant, she wasn’t sure if mentioning the bruises that were forming on her skin was a wise idea for fear of what more he might do.

 That man wasn’t worth Sans losing his freedom over, she thought.

 However, before she could respond, Sans’s hands glided carefully up her arms to rest on her shoulders, phalanges delicately grazing over where she had been seized earlier, and Frisk automatically flinched. Her reaction was enough of an answer for Sans.

 “i’m gonna kill him.”

 “Sans, please don’t-”

 “i really mean it. i’m gonna. but first, i’ll castrate him. right here.”

 “Sans, he’s not worth it!”

 “he hurt you, and then he tried to touch you. and if i hadn’t shown up when i did, he would have. he’s scum.”

 Thankfully, before Sans could carry out his threat, Papyrus had finally made his appearance. His sudden arrival was enough to stop his brother in his tracks as he strode up to them with a look of vexation, arms crossed and appearing ready to put Sans on the receiving end of a brutal tongue lashing for being at the center of such pandemonium.

 “OUR FIRST TRIP INSIDE A HUMAN MARKET, AND YOU CAN’T EVEN STAY OUT OF TROUBLE FOR TEN MINUTES WITHOUT ME CONSTANTLY HOVERING OVER YOU. I WOULD ASK IF YOU HAVE ANY SENSE OF SHAME IF I WERE LESS INTELLIGENT AND DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER.”

 “D-Do you know him?!” The man was apparently conscious again, but he couldn’t move around much; he couldn’t even sit up properly.

 “AND WHO IS THIS?” Papyrus questioned as he gestured to him boredly.

 The man then pointed to Sans, attempting to play the victim – the only ones that knew the truth of what had transpired were him, Frisk, and Sans. He was in front of an entire mob, and if this other skeleton didn’t believe him, then the human members of the crowd almost certainly would over the word of a monster.

 He didn’t even get the chance to plead his case before being interrupted by an enraged Sans that already knew what he was trying to do.

 “This lunatic tried to-”

 “i caught this pervert about to grope frisk!”

 Well that got Papyrus’s attention.

 “and before that, ‘m pretty sure he bruised her up! she flinched hard when i touched her shoulders checkin’ over for any damage!”

 Papyrus’s already narrowed sockets thinned to slits, his heels clacking thunderously against the floor as he closed the distance between them, snatching the man by the front of his shirt and lifting him up with a single arm. Sans’s height was somewhere in the area of six feet, but Papyrus was a seven foot tall, extremely intimidating skeleton monster; so Frisk’s would-be kidnapper was dangling almost two feet off the ground and was at the mercy of a being that had only just recently learned and had a clumsy grasp on the definition of the word.

 Papyrus didn’t say a word as he suddenly summoned a large and heavy bone nearly the size of himself, lifted it with his free hand as if it were weightless, then slammed it over the man’s head. He didn’t even get to let out an ‘ow’ before he was out cold once again.

 “He’s going to get brain damage at this rate…” Frisk said, her blatant display of concern for her aggressor shouldn’t have shocked the brothers in the slightest considering her compassionate and forgiving nature, but it did.

 “AND YOUR POINT IS…? IT’S NOT AS THOUGH HE WAS USING IT IN THE FIRST PLACE.” Papyrus scoffed, dismissing his bone-based attack he had used as a makeshift club.

 “gotta agree with my bro here, babydoll. moron should’a used what few brain cells he had and backed off when he had the chance.”

 Sans and Papyrus were not finished with him in the slightest, she realized. But before the two could concoct more ways to injure the man further, for the third instance that day, a timely arrival, this time of the police, kept her from having to play the role of the ineffectual peacemaker.

 “All right! All right! Break it up! Nothing to see here! That’s right, get moving! You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here!”

 After convincing the gathered people in the area to disperse, the pair of officers suited in blue, a man and a woman, then approached the three. Much to Frisk’s relief, they didn’t appear to be upset with any of them, and she had been so sure that they were here to arrest her two delinquent monster companions. Rather, they swooped in to apprehend the man lying unconscious on the floor of the mall from where Papyrus had clubbed him.

 “We’ve been trying to catch this guy for weeks.” The lady officer, Nina Sanchez explained once the officers had successfully carted the man away and the air around them had began to calm. “He landed himself on our wanted list for multiple charges of sexual harassment, threatening behavior, stalking, and attempted abduction. And now we have to add minor assault to that list.”

 “he was gonna try to take my baby away…” Sans quietly muttered into Frisk’s neck; the shorter of the two skeletons was curled up to her side as they sat on a nearby bench, his arms locked firmly around her as if she would disappear into nothing if he loosened his hold by even the slightest amount.

 “We’re going to make sure he stays behind bars for a long time.” The other officer, Duke Durland, continued. “He didn’t succeed in kidnapping or causing any serious harm to any of the women he’s interacted with, but the intent was still there and crystal clear. He needs to be punished by being locked away where he can’t bother anyone anymore.”

 “I ASSURE YOU; I AM MORE THAN CAPABLE OF DOLING OUT A FAR MORE APPROPRIATE PUNISHMENT.” Papyrus was all too eager to propose.

 “I understand that you’re angry over your lady friend being targeted,” He went on, attempting to pacify him. “but up here on the surface, it’s the job of officers and the court to deal with criminals.”

 “And that means no vigilantism.” Frisk was quick to add.

 “BUT YOU CLEARLY DON’T UNDERSTAND – I WAS VICE-CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD IN THE UNDERGROUND, SO I’M ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THAT I CURRENTLY HOLD THE CREDENTIALS NEEDED IN ORDER TO DELIVER PROPER RETRIBUTION UPON TRANSGRESSORS OF THE LAW!”

 “Papy, that’s not how it works…” Frisk patted his skeletal arm, urging him to sit down on the bench next to her and Sans; he complied with an almost childish pout, crossing his arms as he did so. “Forgive him. His comprehension of surface world laws is still a work in progress. Back where he came from, if somebody had a problem with someone else, then they settled it between themselves – usually with violence...”

 “Oh, you don’t have to tell me that.” Duke laughed heartily, “I have some monster friends of my own, and there isn’t a single dull moment with them around!”

 “I thought for sure the two of you had shown up to arrest them or kick us out.”

 “On normal circumstances, we would have had to,” Nina nodded in her direction, “But you saved the both of us a lot of trouble in hunting this guy down, and your boyfriend here was in the right to react as he did. …Well, maybe not by starting a full-blown fist fight in a public mall, but we checked the security cameras and the court of law would say he was acting in self-defense and defending another party, in this case, you.”

 “Thank you for being so lenient and considerate, but… he’s not my boyfriend.” Frisk awkwardly chuckled, having tried to wiggle out of Sans’s death grip on multiple occasions throughout the conversation, but failing each time. She eventually just sighed in defeat and reached up to pat the top of his skull.

 “Oh, I’m sorry… I’m usually good at picking up on things like that.” Nina apologized, but she took a quick glance at the skeleton currently latched onto Frisk and noticed that his grin had slipped just slightly.

 “It’s alright. A lot of people say the same thing about us.”

 “Uh-huh…” The lady officer allowed her gaze to fall on Sans again and he looked even more glum than a few seconds prior. “Anyway, onto a more pressing matter – your friend lost a tooth in the scuffle, correct?”

 Sans nodded, not willing to dig in his pockets to present his severed tooth if it meant letting go of Frisk.

 “HOW LOVELY. THIS MEANS A TRIP TO THE DENTIST; YOU KNOW THAT, DON’T YOU?” Papyrus’s tone was unenthusiastic and dry as he turned to his brother, and Frisk felt Sans flinch.

 “bro, w-we can’t go. we don’t got the cash for that.”

 “Actually, if the payment to fix your tooth problem is an issue, we can easily have it arranged that the perpetrator pay for the procedure out of his own pocket.” Nina offered, “He won’t be needing any of that money when he’s in prison, and it’s not like he can, oh say, go to the mall to buy anything, now can he?”

 “That sounds perfect!” Frisk eagerly replied, the amount of silver linings of this situation gradually revealing themselves had yet ceased continuing to surprise her. “What’s your verdict, Co-Captain of the Royal Guard, Papyrus?”

 “HMMM, I CAN FIND NO REASON TO OBJECT.”

 “does what i think or feel not mean anythin’ to any of ya?!”

 “NOT IN THE SLIGHTEST. NOW HURRY UP AND GET TO THE CAR! WE NEED TO GET THERE BEFORE THIS TRIP THROWS OFF OUR SCHEDULE FOR THIS EVENING EVEN MORE THAN IT ALREADY HAS!”

 Sans let out a noise that sounded like a mixture between an annoyed grumble and a soft whine but obeyed his brother’s command without protest, dragging his feet as he followed Papyrus’s longer strides out of the building.

 “You two would make a really cute couple, though.” Duke commented before Frisk left to catch up with them.

 “I’m surprised you would say something like that. Most people look at human and monster relationships as… you know…”

 “Heh, it might surprise you to hear someone say this directly, but I’m glad you brought the monsters to the surface. I never would have met my girlfriend otherwise, Miss Ambassador.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m dating a bunny lady right now. She used to run a store in a town in the Underground called Snowdin. …I hope to one day call her my wife.”

 “It makes me glad to hear you two are happy together.” Frisk found herself smiling; it was rare for her to encounter humans that were so open about their tolerance or admiration for the monsters.

 “You should probably get going now; your, uh, not boyfriend was shaking like a leaf when he heard the word ‘dentist’.”

 “Yeah, he was. I never would have thought of him as the type to freak out over something like that, but… I better go with them. Just in case.”

 She would have tagged along anyway even if Sans had been completely unfazed by Papyrus’s declaration, but if he really was frightened about the visit then her presence might help to ease his fears and provide moral support, even if only by a small amount.

 When she had caught up to them, they were already at Papyrus’s car, a sleek black sportscar with painted on hot rod flames, and its owner was already buckled up and behind the wheel. Sans, however, was having difficulty with his own buckle as his hands were shaking too hard.

 “OH FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE – STOP BEING SUCH A BABYBONES!”

 Papyrus was swiftly losing his patience and his temper.

 “Here, I’ll help.” Frisk crawled in the back seat and fastened the buckle for him, their hands brushing over each other’s for a few seconds as she fumbled with the safety apparatus.

 “…thanks.” His reply sounded choked to her.

 “HUMAN FRISK, STOP SPOILING SANS BY COMPLETING TASKS FOR HIM THAT HE’S PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF ACCOMPLISHING FOR HIMSELF. HE MAY BE MY BABY BROTHER, BUT HE IS NOT THAT INCOMPETENT. NOW CEASE YOUR LOLLYGAGGING IMMEDIATELY AND GET UP HERE WITH ME!”

 “Alright, alright. Yes, your vice-captain of the royal guardship.”

 “DON’T TEST MY ALREADY DWINDLING FORBEARANCE, FRISK. THIS IS JUST AS STRESSFUL FOR ME AS IT IS FOR MY BROTHER, I CAN ASSURE YOU.”

 “Why so?” She inquired as she buckled herself in and the engine roared to life.

 “YOU’LL FIND OUT AFTER WE GET THERE.”

 “It would be really helpful of you to let me know now.”

 “UGH, FINE. WHEN SANS LOST HIS ORIGINAL TOOTH AND BEFORE HE OBTAINED HIS GOLD ONE, HE WAS EXTREMELY PANICKED AT THE THOUGHT OF HAVING SOMEONE MESS AROUND WITH HIS MOUTH. YOU ARE PERFECTLY AWARE OF HOW EVERYDAY LIFE WAS FOR MONSTERS IN THE UNDERGROUND – A DENTAL PROCEDURE WOULD PUT HIM IN A STATE OF VULNERABILITY, AND HE WOULD HAVE TO COMPLETELY TRUST THE ONE PERFORMING THE PROCEDURE NOT TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT.”

 “I guess that feeling of uncertainty is still with him, even though he knows there isn’t in any danger of that happening here...”

 “THERE’S MORE TO IT THAN THAT – ANESTHESIA WAS REQUIRED THEN, AND I DOUBT THAT IT WILL BE ANY DIFFERENT HERE IN THE PRESENT AND ON THE SURFACE. AND OTHER THAN THE THOUGHT OF HIM FALLING ASLEEP AND NEVER WAKING UP PLAGUING HIS MIND, HIS BEHAVIOR UPON AWAKENING IN THE PAST WAS… INDESCRIBABLE.”

 “‘m right here. ya can stop talkin’ like ‘m not.”

 “I’m sorry, Sans!” She squeaked, now acknowledging that she had been effectively ignoring him and was additionally asking Papyrus intrusive and probably embarrassing questions about himself. “Listen, I know the needle will be scary, but it’ll all be over before you even know it and then you can go home. I had to get my wisdom teeth removed before and it was finished in an hour, but you won’t even need to get stitches-”

 “stop it.” He nearly growled before taking a deep, shuddery breath and his tone shifting to one that sounded less dangerous and more annoyed. “i know yer tryin’ ta help, but i’d rather jus’ not think about it ‘til we actually get there.”

 “Ok… I understand.” Frisk tried not to show the hurt in her own tone as she replied, “I just thought that you might need a little reassurance since you seemed nervous...”

 “…”

 “you ass. now look at what you did – she’s sad now.” He inwardly began to berate himself. “that little frown on those pretty pink lips is your fault, all you. this is why you don’t even deserve to share the same space as her, much less think you’ll ever be good enough to be the kind of man she needs.”

 He looked out the window and watched the scenery roll by in silence, feeling even worse than he had previously.

 And after about five minutes of pure silence, Papyrus suddenly spoke up.

 “I NEGLECTED TO MENTION THIS BEFORE, FRISK, BUT IS NOW AN UNOPPORTUNE MOMENT TO INFORM YOU THAT I WON’T BE THERE TO SUPERVISE SANS ONCE THE PROCEDURE IS FINISHED?”

 “what?!” “What?!”

 “I WON’T BE THERE TO SUPERVISE SANS ONCE THE PROCEDURE IS FINISHED.”

 “Yes, we heard that the first time, but why?!”

 “I AM TO ACCOMPANY CAPTAIN UNDYNE, HER MAJESTY, QUEEN TORIEL AND HIS MAJESTY, KING ASGORE, TO AN IMPORTANT MEETING DISCUSSING MONSTERS AND THEIR FUTURE ON THE SURFACE. WE ARE TO, UNACCOMPANIED AND UNAIDED BY YOU, OUR AMBASSADOR, PRESENT PROOF THAT WE ARE NOT MENACES TO SOCIETY. AND IF THE HUMAN OFFICIALS WERE TO CATCH WIND OF WHAT OCCURRED IN THE MALL BACK THERE, I LOATHE TO THINK IT MAY IN TURN CAUSE TROUBLE FOR THE REST OF MONSTERKIND; EVEN THOUGH SANS DID, FOR ONCE, ACT OUT IN A MANNER THAT WAS ENTIRELY APPROPRIATE FOR THE GIVEN SITUATION.”

 “i still wanna castrate him, though.”

 “AS DO I, BUT IF WE WISH TO BE ALLOWED TO LIVE OUR LIVES ON THE SURFACE IN RELATIVE PEACE, WE HAVE TO COMPLY WITH THE LAWS OF THIS LAND AND LEAVE HIS FATE UP TO THE HUMANS AND CONSEQUENTLY THEIR UNSUPERIOR AND BORING METHODS OF DISTRIBUTING JUSTICE.”

 “The two of you scare me sometimes…”

 “AH, BUT DON’T YOU FEEL SO INCREDIBLY LOVED BEARING THE KNOWLEDGE THAT ONE INCREDIBLY HANDSOME SKELETON AND ANOTHER OF SUB-PAR ATTRACTIVENESS BY COMPARISON WOULD BE WILLING TO SHED BLOOD IN YOUR NAME?”

 “Not really…”

 “HMPH. VERY WELL, THEN. IF IT TRULY DISPLEASES YOU SO, THEN MY BROTHER AND I WILL DO OUR BEST TO KEEP DISCUSSION OF HYPOTHETICAL BLOODSHED TO THE MINIMUM FROM THIS POINT ONWARD.”

 “Please do. I’d appreciate it if the both of you wouldn’t try to find creative ways to get yourselves locked away in prison.”

 “wait just a sec: if pap an’ i did go to prison though, we could beat up that guy for ya! can’t get in ta trouble and thrown in the slammer for beatin’ the snot out of a guy if we’re already in there.”

 “YOU MAY HAVE A POINT, SANS! THERE’S A TOLL BOOTH UP AHEAD; I’LL GO THROUGH IT WITHOUT PAYING AND SEE IF THE AUTHORITIES NOTICE AND PULL US OVER.”

 “No! Neither of you are going to prison if I can help it!”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 It wasn’t long after they arrived at the dentist’s office that Sans’s name was called, the skeleton shuffling out of the waiting room like a man sentenced to death row on his way to his own execution. He hadn’t uttered a word since they got here, his posture ramrod stiff, but the greatest sign of the discomfort he felt was noticeable in his eyes – his red eyelights had shrunken down to quivering microscopic pinpricks.

 Frisk was surprised that he hadn’t began to rattle; when skeletons felt a great amount of excitement, anger, or fear, sometimes their bones would clatter against each other in response. And the only reason she knew this was because of their confrontation in the Judgement Hall – the entire duration of their one-sided fight, the sound of his bones continuously and violently clinking together echoed throughout the space around them with trepidation at the thought of her leaving the Underground forever. It was the first and so far only time she had heard the noise, and she hoped that should she ever hear it again, it would be from happiness.

 Sans had snapped at her during the car ride when she tried to comfort him, so she was left feeling useless and her company unneeded. However, when Sans’s name was called, he instinctively grabbed her by the wrist.

 He had wanted to hold her hand.

 He held no issue with grabbing her by the hands or nearly anywhere else when he was flirting, but in his time of emotional insecurity, Sans couldn’t allow himself to be put into a position that would reveal what he discerned as his inner weakness. He wanted Frisk to see him as her big, scary skeleton monster bodyguard. How was she supposed to perceive him that way if he was getting his shorts twisted over something as simple as a visit to the dentist’s?

 He was both proud and ashamed of the look he gave her before he stood up; Sans managed to reign control over his eyelights for a few seconds, willing them to go back to normal long enough to stare her in the eyes with all the intensity he held within.

 Sans looked at Frisk like she was his entire world and this may be the last time he would ever see her.

 And it very well may be the last time they see each other; what if the office was filled with monster hating bigots, and when he went under he never woke up again, and then the entire incident would be ruled as a misfortunate accident and swept under the rug along with his dust? Sans loved sleep, but the thought of being forced into an eternal slumber was enough to paralyze him, and every single bone in his body went rigid once the needle came into view.

 Frisk and Papyrus were in the waiting room for nearly an hour afterward before a nurse came over to tell them he was almost ready to be taken home. The taller skeleton nudged Frisk along towards the direction the nurse pointed out, his face turned away from her with a light redness dusting his sharp cheekbones.

 “YOU NEED TO BE THE FIRST THING HE SEES WHEN HE REGAINS CONSCIOUSNESS. I WOULD ONLY MAKE THINGS WORSE IN THIS SITUATION.”

 She wanted to argue that his claim wasn’t true, that the familiarity of Papyrus’s presence would reassure Sans far more than her own, but his tone had sounded so convinced and final that she didn’t push the issue. Frisk followed the nurse to the back room where the dentist himself greeted them before allowing her to see Sans. He went over the things that she might need to be cautious over and what to expect in the next few hours, but she also wanted to know about his current emotional wellbeing.

 “How did it go? His reaction, I mean.” She asked with a twinge of unease.

 “Just fine. A little bit of cursing when the needle went in, but then he was out like a light. He should be waking up any moment now.”

 Another nurse popped in directly after his statement, “Actually, the patient woke up just now and he’s acting… emotional.”

 When Frisk heard the word ‘emotional’ pass her lips, she had expected a large-scale, curse-ridden tantrum from the skeleton. What she didn’t expect to find was Sans nearly curled up in his seat, quietly sniffling as tears ran down his cheekbones like miniature waterfalls. He looked so lost, so terrified, and so vulnerable… It was utterly heartbreaking and pulled at her SOUL in ways she couldn’t even begin to describe.

 She understood now why Papyrus had wanted her to see him first; Papyrus did love his brother, but he couldn’t handle his more softhearted outbursts. For years, the pair had grown up believing that to show tears was a sign of fragility, a stamp of death in a kill or be killed world, and it was only after the two met Frisk that they became more receptive towards the notion of openly expressing feelings that were unrelated to rage. Sans didn’t cry often, but whenever he did, his brother still didn’t know how to deal with it in the slightest. So it was because he loved his younger brother that Papyrus decided to pass him onto Frisk’s more tender care.

 “Sans…?” She maintained a soft volume as she approached, not wanting to startle him.

 His head immediately whipped up at the sound of her voice, far too quickly to not have been painful, she thought, and his eyesockets went near impossibly wide as if he couldn’t believe she was really here. Those red eyelights then began to swell, almost filling the entirety of the dark space they occupied.

 “y-you came for me…” He whispered, his words slurred but still intelligible.

 “Of course I did. I would never leave you, Sans.” She delicately reached over to stroke the crown of his skull and this seemed to placate him somewhat, his flow of tears beginning to slow.

 Sans had dreamed while he slept.

 It was a dark dream. He had been taken somewhere pitch black and couldn’t see or hear anything. It was The Void, he was certain; a place monsters occasionally spoke of, mostly respected, and always feared. No one knew just how one would cross over to this place, but it was said that once one entered there was no escape. And for Sans, being there even while inside the relative safety of a dream was a complete nightmare. There was nowhere and nothing, time and space no longer existed, and with nobody to speak to, he was left with only his thoughts to keep him company. He was far, far away from Frisk and his brother, and he just knew he would never see either of them again.

 So when he opened his eye sockets to find himself in a world of sound and color once more, he had first been overcome with relief. But then his blurred senses couldn’t detect a single sign of Frisk’s existence within immediate reach, nor his brother’s, and that was enough for him to feel as though he were dropped back into another nightmare realm. Her presence and words brought him a great deal of comfort and eased his frightened and weary SOUL; she had told him what he had wanted to hear always, that she would never leave him – if this too was another figment of his imagination, then he didn’t want to wake up if it meant being forced to live in a world without her.

 Sans gave her a lopsided grin with his newly reattached golden tooth, content now that she was here before him, safe and within his reach. He wrapped his arms around the limb of hers closest to him, wanting nothing more than to cuddle his precious human. But she needed to go tell Papyrus that he was awake so his brother could help her guide the stocky skeleton to the car, and he was extremely reluctant to allow her to leave his sight for even that.

 “Sans, I’m just going to get your brother. You know, Papyrus? I’ll be right back. I’m not going anywhere far, just into the next room.”

 He squeezed her hand, gazing up at her with wobbly eyelights. “p-promise…? promise me you’ll come back.”

 “I promise.” She used her free hand to stroke his left cheek, and he leaned into her palm, lifting up his own to rest over hers and press himself further into her touch.

 He reluctantly permitted her to leave only after placing a clumsy kiss against her fingers as they slipped out of his hold.

 The dentist stepped into the room directly after, preparing for his last patient for the day and making it easier for Sans to get up when his escorts came by adjusting the chair. As he scurried around the room doing this and that, Sans suddenly became talkative.

 “didja see that girl i was with?”

 “Yes, you mean Ms. Frisk, the ambassador? Is she a friend of yours?”

 “yeah, she is. she’s my best friend in the whooooole world besides my brother.” He swayed around happily in his seat with a carefree giggle. “and i’m gonna marry her one day, but she doesn’t know that yet.”

 It took every ounce of his willpower for the dentist to not laugh and retain his professionalism; he saw dozens of patients a week that had their fair share of interesting and amusing things to say while under the influence of the anesthesia, but Sans was behaving so innocently and had spoken so fondly of the human in his company that it was enough to melt the old man’s heart.

 “Getting married is an important step in a committed relationship, so wouldn’t it be a good idea to let her know how you feel?”

 His eye sockets widened. “you’re right…! i-i do need to tell her! i need to tell her right now!”

 He then attempted to wiggle out of his chair to find Frisk himself instead of patiently waiting for her to return. The only thing that prevented him from tumbling out and falling flat onto his face was the dentist’s swift movement of grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him, then carefully easing Sans back into his previous position while scolding him on his recklessness as if he were a misbehaving toddler. The six-foot-tall skeleton then slumped backwards with a pout, his preceding lovesick expression screwing into one of annoyance.

 When Frisk eventually did return with Papyrus, as they lead him out the back door and towards the car that was parked just outside, she couldn’t understand why the dentist was looking at her, smiling and chuckling to himself as if she were missing out on an inside joke or something of the sort. Sans must have said something really special for a professional that saw this sort of behavior daily to react in such a way. She nearly shuddered to think what nonsensical statements a mind such as his could have assembled while in this state.

 She assisted Sans in buckling him in the back seat as she did before. He practically begged Frisk to sit next to him, but she politely declined. He was acting so loopy that it was taking all of her self-control not to laugh at some of his drunken antics and articulations. He might take her laughter the wrong way and accidentally have his feelings hurt, since he seemed to be far more sensitive when he was like this.

 Sans was also incredibly chatty while high, she learned quickly.

 Every single thing that popped into his head was evidently broadcasted to his captive audience of two. And most of what was said were things that would certainly embarrass him if anyone else aside from the pair heard them. Sans could most likely brush aside anything that occurred here with them later, but right now he was rattling off puns that made no sense and jokes without punchlines, and Frisk also made the mental note that he was acting incredibly and uncharacteristically sappy. She wondered if this was what Papyrus had meant when he mentioned his behavior being indescribable.

 Indescribable was certainly one word for it.

 “frisk. ey, frisk? frisky~”

 “Yes, Sans?” She sighed for what felt like the fifth time in the past three minutes.

 “has anyone ever told you your hair is really pretty…?”

 “Sometimes…?”

 “well, it is, and no matter how many times ya may of heard so already, it still don’t get said enough. it’s… really really pretty. like, it’s all soft and it smells nice. skeletons don’t have all that soft stuff on our heads, you know. and i know i probably reek of mustard all the dang time, so… it’s really different. it’s nice.”

 “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you to say.”

 “no no no, you’re the one that’s sweet. you-your trait is determination, and i admired that about ya a lot from the moment we first met, but, b-but you have so much kindness in your SOUL that sometimes it’s a lil’ overwhelming... i didn’t understand that back then, but i do kinda have an idea now and i appreciate it so much… i appreciate you so much, frisk.”

 “I appreciate you too, Sans. You’re a good friend.”

 “no ‘m not. ‘m always causin’ trouble for ya. because of me, people look at ya funny on the street an’ they start ta talk. they’ll look at ya anyways without me there ‘cause yer too pretty not to talk about an’ look at, but i make ‘em look at ya an’ talk in the bad way. it’s all my fault.”

 “No, none of that is your fault, Sans. If those people are going to look down on me because you’re my friend, then I don’t want those same individuals to be looking at me in a positive light during the rare times you’re not standing next to me. And besides, staring is rude.”

 “but-but what about when i look at ya? does that mean i can’t ever look at ya again because it’s rude? i can’t do that – you’re too cute to ignore. even fer a little bit. i can’t help it. i just gotta look at ya, all the time-”

 “Alright, alright! I’ll make a special exception for you – you’re the only one that’s allowed to stare at me, Sans. On occasion.”

 “AHEM.”

 “Ok, you’re given an exception too, Papyrus…”

 “THAT’S MORE LIKE IT, AS I’M CERTAIN YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY FLATTERED TO BE THE OBJECT OF MY ATTENTIONS?”

 “Sure…”

 “‘asides, if i don’t always look at ya, then what’ll happen if someone decides to take ya away?”

 “That won’t happen-”

 “but it could! and it almost did just today! d-don’t you remember at all?! y-you were there! my baby almost got taken away from me forever…”

 She heard him let out a soft sob in the back seat and Papyrus shot her an unimpressed glance, mouthing out the words that she was still somehow able to decipher despite him not having lips, ‘SAY SOMETHING TO HIM…’

 “B-But it didn’t, Sans! You showed up at just the right moment when I really needed you! …I feel fortunate to have someone in my life that takes such an active interest in watching over my wellbeing.”

 And that was the truth. Before she befriended the occupants of the Underground, Frisk’s life had been barely acknowledged by those around her, and those that did pay her any mind gave her the sort of heed that she nor anyone would want; tormentors, perverts, thugs; those were the only sort of people that gave her quiet existence any notice… So when the monsters that entered her life began showing signs of appreciating, reciprocating, and even actively vying for her attention, Frisk had secretly felt incredibly flattered and somewhat ashamedly relished it. For once in her life, she finally felt important to not only someone, but several someones. But now that the inner bliss of those occasions had begun to fade and the consequences of their extreme behavior, particularly Sans’s, had come about, she was much less thrilled over the dramatic and even sometimes possessive in nature gestures and displays that were frequently presented to her.

 These monsters had gone so long without expressing love for another, they didn’t know how to anymore without going entirely overboard with it.

 And that’s exactly what Sans was doing currently – going completely, utterly, and not-so gracefully swan-diving-into-the-water overboard with showing his affections for her.

 Sans was flirtatious by nature, and she knew he didn’t mean to indicate interest in initiating a serious romantic relationship with the recipient of his sweet words, recurring caresses, and terms of endearment, especially whenever they were directed towards her - because that’s just who Sans was. And he had absolutely no filter even without the involvement of anesthesia and little understandings of personal space, most likely because he was raised in and exposed to a violent upbringing and environment. So with him there existed a thin line between when either a positive or negative touch, depending on the mood set of the situation, was appropriate at any given time. He would throw his arms around her and nuzzle the pulse point of her neck with the tip of his nasal ridge just as swiftly and eagerly as he would throw a punch to someone on the street that had personally wronged him in some shape or form.

 Sans was the living definition of the expression and phrase, ‘all or nothing’ and ‘go big or go home’.

 “aww… i feel lucky ta have ya too, sweetheart.” His cooing was slurred, and Frisk imagined the dopey grin he must be wearing as he swayed around as he spoke – the mental image was enough to bring a smile to her own lips. “yer always so nice and sweet ta everyone, even me. …that’s why i love ya.”

 Before Frisk could utter a single word or even the slightest sound, they had pulled up at a traffic light, the car pulling to a stop with a loud screech.

 How appropriate.

 After a long and uncomfortable silence, she slowly turned her head towards Papyrus, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gloved fingers were clutched tightly to the steering wheel and he was staring straight ahead of them at the vehicle-infested road.

 “…I LOATHE DRIVING AT THIS HOUR.” Was all he said, his voice noticeably more faint than usual and a near imperceptible tremble discernable in his tone.

 The quietness around them stretched on. The only things that could be heard were the sounds of the car’s engine, the air condition, and the occasional honk from an impatient driver somewhere.

 Frisk’s cheeks were burning. Her throat felt dry.

 Nobody had once ever said that to her. In any shape, way, or form.

 Her SOUL should be bursting with happiness, to hear someone say they loved her. But all she could feel was a sense of uncomfortableness – Sans was clearly not in his right mind at the moment. Frisk knew she was important to him, he told her that enough on a near daily basis and she knew that unlike his flirtations, his appreciation for her was entirely sincere.

 Perhaps he did love her, she thought, but not in the romantic sense, surely…

 She finally managed to regain her voice.

 “Thank you, Sans. For saying that. I love you too…”

 “noooooo…!” He whined loudly as he kicked his legs, surprising her. Before she could question his odd response to her reply, he continued. “not like that; i know you like me. i-i even know you love me… but, i didn’t mean like that.”

 Frisk couldn’t recall having ever felt so confused in all her life – by that way, did he think she had misunderstood his declaration of love as something romantic when it was only intended to be platonic? He had told Papyrus just fifteen minutes prior that he loved him as well…

 “you’re the best bro i’ve got, papyrus...” He had nearly cried when Papyrus turned on the air conditioner after Sans complained about the heat.

 “I’M YOUR ONLY BROTHER.” He sighed.

 “i know, b-but you’re still the best. i love ya, papyrus.” He sniffled, causing Papyrus, after a few seconds had passed, to quietly mutter that he felt the same.

 Papyrus probably would have appreciated the sentiment far more if Sans hadn’t been high as a kite when he said it and his eye sockets had been dry.

 “Then in what way did you mean when you said that, Sans?” Frisk honestly wasn’t sure if she should have asked – his brother looked so tense behind the wheel, but he wasn’t giving either of them any warning glances or cues to put the topic to a close.

 “you know… i love you - like that. like… like this.” He raised up both hands, weak and wobbly, then touched the pads of his two index fingers together. “oh wait, you can’t see back here from up there…”

 “I’m afraid I can’t, Sans.” She laughed uncertainly, but she had heard him make a noise with his mouth that sounded like a kiss, despite him not having lips.

 Or perhaps he did…? Or maybe she just misheard him because of the air conditioner. Yes, that had to be it.

 Papyrus, however, had apparently seen everything from the car’s internal mirror that gave him a view of the back seat, which escaped Frisk’s view because of her far smaller height.

 “GOOD HEAVENS, SANS!” He rolled his red eyelights with an indignant huff. “SHOW SOME SELF RESTRAINT FOR GOODNESS SAKE! SHE’S ALREADY MARRIED!”

 …What?

 That was all Frisk could think after that rebuttal. She wasn’t married; it was true that she wore a ring on her left hand on the finger that usually indicated if someone was or not, but she did so mainly because of the sizing of the ring and because it felt most comfortable on this hand. Papyrus knew that.

 And so did Sans.

 But in his disoriented state, all logic and reasoning he normally would have exercised and applied in this situation had been flung out the window.

 “frisk, how could you?!” He shouted with dismay, struggling against the binds of his seatbelt. “i’m not with you for… for… i get unconscious… and-and the moment i do, you go and get married to some other guy behind my back?!”

 “…What?” Frisk turned to Papyrus, hoping for some sort of explanation, but all she could see were the beginnings of dread and regret in his expression.

 “WHAT BRAND OF CHAOS HAVE I UNLEASHED…?”

 Sans was having a complete nuclear meltdown in the back now, and at this rate, poor Papyrus’s nice and very expensive car might be totaled from the inside out if either of them didn’t put an end to his brother’s tantrum soon.

 “Sans, calm down! You’re going to hurt yourself! …Or this car!” She managed to somehow raise her normally soft voice above and over his own, a feat she would later be impressed by. “Sans, I’m not married!”

 “……y-yer not? then… then why did papyrus-”

 “IT WAS A JOKE. A JEST. A JAPE!” Papyrus interjected with another huff. “…BUT NOW I REALIZE MY MISTAKE. TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOUR… EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY AT THIS TIME, IT WAS… A RATHER CRUAL JAPE.”

 “yeah, it was.” Sans readily agreed, letting out a growl of his own.

 Papyrus mumbled another apology before returning to his usual persona. “NOW CAN WE RETURN TO HOME WITHOUT ANY FURTHER INCIDENTS, PLEASE? THERE, I SAID ‘PLEASE’.”

 “frisk… frisk really isn’t married…” He sounded so relieved. “uuunnh…”

 And once again, Sans was so overcome with emotion that he could only express it by spontaneously bursting into tears.

 “Papyrus, would it be possible for you to pull over, please?” Frisk timidly requested. “Maybe if I sit in the back with him, he’ll calm down for the rest of the ride?”

 He wordlessly nodded his consent, then visibly cringed at the sound of his brother blowing his nose into the sleeve of his jacket.

 “y-yer gonna sit in the back, frisk? with me?” Sans momentarily paused in his sobbing, but only just for a moment. “i’m so…haaaaappyyyyyy…”

 At the next traffic light, Papyrus let his forehead hit the top of the steering wheel with a loud groan.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 A while later, the three had reached the skeleton brothers’ house without too many more tears being shed. The drive home had only lasted about thirty minutes, but it had felt like hours to Papyrus. He just wasn’t equipped to handle Sans while he was in this condition, so it gave him some amount of relief that Frisk was the one who would be dealing with him.

 But only by a small amount.

 He didn’t completely trust Sans at the moment, and he would continue not to for as long as he was like this.

 “IF HE ATTEMPTS TO DO ANYTHING UNTOWARD, I GRANT YOU FULL PERMISSION TO WARD HIM OFF WITH THIS.”

 He then tried to present Frisk a wooden baseball bat riddled with nails. Curiously, there was also a bright red ribbon tied to the handle. Was this supposed to be a gift of some sort?

 “I really don’t think that will be necessary, Papyrus.” She gave him a weary smile. “Sans wouldn’t do anything… as you said, untoward. Even when he’s like this.”

 “YES, I’M FULLY AWARE THAT HE WOULDN’T. THAT WAS YET ANOTHER ATTEMPT OF MINE TO MAKE A JEST. IT SEEMS ALL MY JAPES ARE FAILING THIS EVENING.”

 “…Oh.” That was all she could say; he looked genuinely upset that he had failed to make her laugh, but only for a moment before his usual scowl returned just as quickly as it left.

 That wasn’t truly why he didn’t trust Sans right now; he knew his younger brother respected Frisk’s boundaries and wouldn’t harass her, even while intoxicated – no, what Papyrus couldn’t trust him with currently was…

 “TRUTH BE TOLD, IT’S NOT SANS THAT I AM CONCERNED WITH.” He began to confess, his expression contorting to one of concern. “OUR LIVES ON THE SURFACE WORLD ARE FAR DIFFERENT THAN WHEN IN THE UNDERGROUND, BUT I HAVE NOTICED THAT THIS WORLD IS NOT DEVOID OF VIOLENCE AND CRUELTY. THE OUTCOME OF OUR BRIEF EXCURSION TODAY REMINDED ME OF THAT… SO, IT WOULD EASE MY MIND SIGNIFICANTLY IF YOU WOULD ACCEPT THIS WEAPON I AQUIRED, SOLELY FOR YOUR PERSONAL USE.”

 “Oh, Papyrus…” She had misunderstood his intentions; he was only trying to protect her, in his own odd way.

 She gingerly took the nail bat from him, giving it a test swing at a safe distance from any of their furniture, just to make him happy. It did. When she turned around, it was quick, but she caught a glimpse of his smile. Not one of his cocky smirks, but his real smile. There was no other way for her to describe it but dazzling.

 “Thank you, Papyrus. I probably won’t have to use it, but I appreciate it and I’ll keep it nearby… because it came from you.”

 A deep scarlet rose over his cheekbones. He diverted his gaze from her, shyly.

 “THE CRIMSON RIBBON… IT’S THERE IN ORDER TO IDENTIFY ITSELF AS YOURS.”

 The Underground had three primary colors, each representing something the entire monster population held sacred to them.

 Red – Determination. The monsters craved this trait of the humans that imprisoned them above all else, so they donned its color for strength.

 Gold – Their currency. For money sometimes held more value than anything else in their bleak and dreary lives.

 Black – The Void. Its purpose unknown, and its existence constantly acknowledged and feared.

 Of these colors, red was the only one that held any true significance to the monsters since the breaking of the barrier. Because that was the color of the SOUL of the human that had brought them their salvation.

 The ribbon looked fancy, expensive even. Frisk couldn’t say she had ever wanted a nail bat, especially since she considered herself a pacifist. But she could tell that this gift came from Papyrus’s heart, metaphorically speaking.

 She took another moment to appreciate the ribbon’s texture before he awkwardly cleared his throat.

 “I MUST BE GOING NOW… I SHOULDN’T BE ABSENT FOR LONG. I EXPECT TO BE BACK SOMEWHERE AROUND TEN TONIGHT. BY THEN, THE ANESTHESIA SHOULD CERTAINLY HAVE WORN OFF. AFTER MY RETURN, MY BROTHER AND I WILL ESCORT YOU TO YOUR OWN HOME.”

 “Papyrus, that’s kind of you, but it really isn’t necessary. I live just down the road, remember?”

 When the brothers had first began looking for a house on the surface, the sole requirements they had listed were that it be located within walking distance of Frisk’s own home, and that Grillby’s was easily accessible from wherever their future residence was located –this second condition came solely from Sans. She didn’t understand herself why that last bit was so important to him when it was common knowledge to the three of them that he could easily teleport anywhere he wanted to go as long as he knew where his destination was located.

 And for whatever reason, it seemed both skeletons had assigned themselves as her bodyguards ever since they moved to the surface.

 “I WILL NOT ACCEPT ‘NO’ FOR AN ANSWER. I CAN COMPREHEND WHY MY BROTHER’S COMPANY MAY BE GRATING AT TIMES, BUT IS MY PRESENCE SO UNDESIRABLE AS WELL?”

 Oh, Papyrus was not above playing the guilt trip card on Frisk if it meant keeping her safe.

 “That’s not it at all! Neither of you are unwelcome around me-”

 “THEN YOU ARE IN AGREEMENT WITH MY SUGGESTION THAT WE ARE TO ESCORT YOU LATER TONIGHT…?”

 “I suppose there’s no harm to be found in it…”

 “OF COURSE THERE ISN’T. YOU SHOULD LEARN TO ALLOW YOURSELF TO RELY ON OTHERS MORE OFTEN, ESPECIALLY WHEN THIS OTHER PERSON IS MYSELF.”

 “I’ll try to keep that in mind. Good luck at the meeting, Papyrus.”

 “I HAVE NO NEED FOR LUCK; I CAN CHARM THE OPPOSITION TO SHIFT THEIR CONTRASTING OPINIONS IN OUR FAVOR WITH EASE, BUT I ACKNOWLEDGE THE SENTIMENT.” He was as delightfully conceited as ever as he said this, like a strutting peacock with its feathers fanned out. “KEEP YOUR PHONE CLOSE BY – SHOULD YOU NEED MY ASSISTANCE, FOR ANYTHING AT ALL, I WILL CUT MY PRESENCE AT THE MEETING SHORT AND RETURN HERE. JUST FOR YOU. AS I KNOW YOU WOULDN’T INTERRUPT SOMETHING SO SIGNIFICANT FOR ANY REASON THAT COULD BE CONSIDERED FOOLISH.”

 She agreed to keep her phone on her person at all times while he was gone, and he allowed his gaze to linger on her for a short while longer than necessary before he stepped out the door, leaving Frisk alone with Sans tucked into bed upstairs.

 Sans had fallen unconscious the instant his head had hit the pillow. Guiding him up the stairs had been a challenge for them both; Papyrus could have simply lifted him and carried Sans up the stairs without the need for any issue, but Sans had insisted that Frisk help him alongside Papyrus, and neither of them were in any mood to hear another one of his tantrums.

 He had almost fell down on a few occasions, and a task that should have only taken a few seconds to accomplish instead took several careful minutes. The stocky skeleton had even briefly fell asleep halfway up and the two were forced to carry him with one of them grasping him at each end.

 “MIDNIGHT WILL HAVE PASSED BY THE TIME WE REACH THE LAST STAIR IF WE KEEP IT UP AT THIS RATE. I THINK WE CAN AFFORD TO GO A LITTLE FASTER, WOULDN’T YOU AGREE?”

 “Huff… That’s easy for you to say!” She panted, struggling to keep a firm hold on him. “You have the light end!”

 “SANS DOESN’T HAVE A LIGHT END.”

 And to emphasize his statement, Papyrus made them switch sides, nearly sending the slumbering skeleton down the steps for the third time since they began their gradual ascent when he suddenly tried to turn over in his sleep.

 Frisk hoped that Sans never got into another accident that would make him lose one of his teeth, because she wasn’t sure she could survive having to carry him up that flight of stairs again.

 Magical skeleton monster or not, he shouldn’t be that heavy! That was what she had thought then.

 The muscles in her arms ached, but at least she could relax a little now.

 They had brought Sans home at about six ‘o clock, and he remained asleep for a little over an hour before Frisk was alerted he was awake by him suddenly letting out an agonized wail.

 She quickly pounded up the stairs, his wails sounding as though he were in sincere and significant pain. When Frisk entered his room, she found him lying on his back, eye sockets wide open with his glowing irises shrunken down to pinpricks once more. His hands were clutching the sheets in a shaky grip, and his entire body was trembling violently.

 “Sans?” She called out to him softly, knowing that he didn’t seem to be completely there as of yet from whatever undoubtedly horrific dream it was he had escaped from. “Sans, it’s me. Frisk.”

 “…frisk?” He murmured after a long stretch of silence, his body stilling.

 His voice still sounded slurred, but less than before.

 “Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here. I’m here.” She slowly stepped across the carpet towards him until she eventually reached his bedside. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurting anywhere?”

 “…had a nightmare.”

 “Do you want to talk about it or…?”

 He shook his head from side to side, small streams of tears escaping his closed sockets.

 “That’s alright. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” Frisk sat down on the edge of his bed and softly cupped his cheeks, gently wiping the tears that fell with her thumb.

 He raised his own hands weakly to cover her own, his touch featherlight and barely there as he let out another wet sob.

 Unlike the several instances where he had burst into tears during the drive home, this spell of tears felt less like a small child’s tantrum and more like a plea for help. It was more akin to when he first woke up and noticed that Frisk and his brother were nowhere to be found. He had been seized by a sudden, almost primal fear, a deep loneliness that threatened to smother him if not immediately remedied.

 “i… i love you, frisk.” He choked out as he squeezed the top of her hand. “i love you so much… you don’t have to feel the same way that i do, but please, just let me love you and don’t leave me, ever…”

 This declaration, again, unlike when they were in the car together, sounded far more desperate and anguished.

 And it was also now undeniable that he intended his words to be perceived by her as being nothing but romantic in nature.

 Frisk wanted to convince herself that it was probably the anesthesia talking, that she must appear different to him while in this state and it caused him to act more needy, and she just happened to be the person closest to him during this time, so she was the one being subjected to his forsaken whiplash responses. Anyone else could be standing in her place at this moment and his reactions wouldn’t change - this is what Frisk tried to tell herself.

 But she found herself quickly getting sucked into the whims of this new side of him revealed to her, this lovesick and vulnerable Sans that was looking at her and only her.

 “Shh, shh, shh… Sans, it’s going to be alright. I’m right here, in front of you, holding you, and I’m not going anywhere.” She shushed him, attempting to calm him even if only slightly. “It’s okay for you to love me. I love you too.”

 “nooooo…” He groaned again, followed by a hiccup. “stop it. just stop teasing me like this! you don’t think i am, but i’m being serious! i love you, frisk. i really really love you! and not just as a friend either. i… i don’t want some no name human guy jerk to be the one to marry you. i wanna be the one to do that… i wanna marry you, frisk!”

 Frisk had never felt such a red-hot burning sensation in all her life. Her face was such a vibrant shade of crimson, it was nearly scalding. She was certain that if she could look in a mirror, it would appear as if she had received a severe sunburn, her face was so red.

 “Sans…” She began to trail away, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back towards him onto the bed and himself, wrapping his arms around her and pulling Frisk into his chest.

 She could hear a wild series of thumps coming from his ribcage, which produced a sound not unlike her own heartbeat at this point in time. There was no other thing that could have produced this noise but his SOUL, forlornly crying out for her own.

 “if… if you want a pretty ring, i’ll get one for you. i’ll get you one that’s much bigger and even prettier than the one on your finger. if it’s a fancy and expensive wedding you want, i can give you that too. it may take me a while, but i’ll make it happen, for you. if it’s kids you want, i’ll give you as many as you want our family to have, or none at all if you’d rather it be just us two… but if you do want some, i’ll provide for you and them the best i can, i promise, frisk.”

 He had said the ‘p’ word – promise.

 Sans hated making promises. While the monsters weren’t ones to honor their word while they had been immersed in the old ways of the Underground life, he still felt the word put him into a position of responsibility. That’s why he avoided that word at all cost.

 And Sans had just promised to love, marry, and have children with her if she so desired, three of the most responsibility-laden commitments known to mankind.

 Forget being flushed with embarrassment; her head was spinning far too much to even think straight now. How could anyone possibly think straight after hearing all this while being in her position?

 Sans slowly carded his phalanges through her hair in a manner that was meant to be soothing as he spoke, his tone much lower and softer than she was used to hearing. Her head was tucked under his chin and his other arm was draped across her back, preventing any possibility of a successful attempt at escape.

 Frisk was immensely thankful that Papyrus wasn’t here to see this. Otherwise, the taller skeleton might have actually made due on his previous joke about bashing his brother over the head with a bat covered in nails for this display of behavior.

 She wiggled uncomfortably, but instead of loosening his grip, Sans only held her tighter. He then adjusted the two of them into a slightly more comfortable position, as if that would fix the matter in some way. Sans must have thought so, because the hand that had been absentmindedly tangled in her hair moved to the back of Frisk’s head when she had been caught trying to raise herself up and pressed downwards, her ear directly over his ribcage where his SOUL was still hammering away against his bones.

 After lying there for a few more seconds, mulling over her options, Frisk finally decided to just be direct with him.

 “Sans, you’re gonna have to let me go.”

 “no. i don’t want to.” He held her even closer, somehow. “if you’re not here with me, you might go somewhere where i’ll never see you again. so… i’m never letting you go again. ever. simple as that.”

 “You can’t do that, Sans. It’s not possible.”

 “well not with that attitude.”

 “Sans!” She struggled, kicking her legs to little effect.

 “do you hate being with me that much…?” There was an audible hint of nervousness and uncertainty in his tone as he said this.

 She managed to lift her head enough to get a glimpse of his face, and she wasn’t prepared for how lost and alone it looked. He wasn’t trying to manipulate her with his words – Sans, at this moment, truly was drifting in a sea of self-doubt and was seeking for the answers in her.

 “Don’t say something so silly.” She reached up to pat his boney cheek, the texture smooth and oddly soft against her skin. “I enjoy your company. I love being with you, Sans.”

 “…i love spending time with you too, sweetheart.” He lifted the hand that had been behind her head and rested it over hers to keep it there, closing his eye sockets as he enjoyed the blissful warmth that emanated from it. “if i could have it my way, i’d never go a second without you. because i love you…”

 Frisk involuntarily shuddered; he had moved so his mouth was directly next to her ear. Hearing something like that, so possessive yet loving, with his breath ghosting over her skin… it was just too much.

 These affectionate, and nearly obsessive words that were coming from Sans were things she had secretly always wanted to hear.

 And it was terribly, horribly cruel.

 Because he was only saying these things because he wasn’t in complete control of his thoughts or actions.

 Anyone else could replace her at this scene and in this moment, and nothing would change.

 So no matter how much Sans insisted that his affectionate claims were true, she couldn’t believe a word of it until he was fully sober.

 “…ya never gave me an answer.” He spoke again after a while, almost causing her to jump at the abruptness. His voice was beginning to sound more slurred too. “i finally confessed to ya… i’ve told ya just about everything i���ve always wanted ta say to ya since when i realized i felt this way… but you never said a word.”

 “…” She still wasn’t sure what to say.

 “i’ve poured out my whole SOUL to ya, and it still ain’t enough…” Before she could come up with a reply, he started speaking again, his tone urgent. “then tell me what i can do ta have ya, to make ya mine.”

 “Sans-”

 “i’m not flirting with nobody but you no more cuz you’re the only girl i think is attractive anymore. could come home ta find some blonde thing in a skimpy red bikini, posed all seductive on my bed and i wouldn’t feel a thing. nothin’. ask her what she thought she was doin’ here an’ tell her to shove off.”

 Frisk absorbed his statement and then took a moment to dwell on it. Her mind did a replay of the time they had spent together on the surface, and she found she couldn’t recall a single instance of him flirting with anyone aside from herself. In fact, he almost looked annoyed whenever a member of the opposite sex flirted with him these days. It had certainly happened on a few occasions, and Frisk was there to witness it.

 “and i try not to cuss as much anymore cuz i know you don’t like it. same thing with the alcohol – i used to look forward to one day tryin’ the booze you humans got for myself if i ever got up here, but now i know you hate the smell, and drunk people scare ya, and you’re right: the risks just ain’t worth it. can’t get any of those diseases you humans get, but my mouth runs somethin’ wild plenty enough when ‘m not drunk.”

 “Oh, I know. Believe me, I know this now…” She thought, but also had to silently admit that everything he was saying was indisputably true.

 Sans had changed a lot since they had become friends.

 And she had been mostly blind to it, paying more attention to him for his misdemeanors than his efforts to change. He had been silently working to improve himself, and Frisk hadn’t paid him any mind.

 It made her feel guilty, but she still couldn’t allow herself to believe that he really loved her – not yet.

 Her own crippling self-doubt and denial was stronger than her desire for affection.

 “so… what do i gotta do ta make ya fall in love with me?” He finally allowed her some breathing room, but only so he could gaze into her eyes – eyes were the window to the SOUL, and he needed a glimpse inside hers now more than ever. “i’ll do anything. really. anything ta make ya mine and mine alone.”

 “Sans… you don’t need to do anything. Not at all.” She smiled at him, but it wasn’t the one he liked, the one that would make his SOUL do somersaults and backflips every time he saw it. This one looked strained, forced. “I just… this is a lot to process… and I can’t really believe anything that you’re saying right now.”

 “why not?!” He replied, indignant.

 “Because… you’re not acting normal. You’re… you’re all hopped up on anesthesia right now. And, well… anesthesia makes people say a lot of crazy things that they normally wouldn’t. So until it’s worn off, I can’t believe you.”

 “so yer sayin’ ya can’t trust me cuz I’m drunk? ya think ‘m not tellin’ the tooth?!” He spat; his voice was really slurred now. “the-the nerve ‘a ya! i-i’ll have you know… that i am cone sold stober…!”

 Frisk just smiled at him, almost smugly as realization bloomed across his face, that what he just said didn’t sound right.

 “wait, wait, wait. crap. i… i’ve got this, just… gimme a minute…” His eye sockets began to narrow sleepily.

 “Sans, I’ll make an agreement with you, about your confession,” He perked up just slightly, now rapt with attention. “Tell me again in a little while. Then I’ll give you a proper answer. But first, you need to sleep.”

 “ok, i promise. but-but… how can i… possibly sleep…” His body was growing heavier and heavier. “when i know that… when I wake up… the most important moment a’ my life…”

 The back of his head hit the pillow with a soft ‘pomf’. She sighed, but felt a bit of anticipation as she disentangled herself from him and tucked the covers up to his chest again.

 She gave his cheek another gentle pat and made her way out of his room, hoping that this time no nightmares plagued his sleep and that he was in his right mind when he next awoke.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 At about nine-thirty, a half an hour before Papyrus’s scheduled return, Frisk once again heard sounds coming from Sans’s bedroom.

 She put down her book and padded up the stairs, opening his door and praying to herself that the mostly sane Sans she knew had returned.

 “uuuugh, i feel like i got hit by a freakin’ sixteen-wheeler truck! fully loaded!” He groaned, clutching his cranium crabbily.

 “Oh, Sans, you’re back!” She couldn’t help but shout, causing him to flinch and she gave a quick apology.

 “did i go somewhere…?”

 “Kind of? You went to the dentist.”

 “…oh yeah, that did happen. i’m remembering that now… can we not talk about it? i don’t wanna think about it.”

 “Certainly. And how are you feeling?”

 “aside from feeling like my bones were hollowed out and got loaded with rocks? pretty ok, i guess? everything’s kind of a hazy blur ta be honest.”

 “Is that so…?” She laughed, but it sounded so forced, to both of them.

 “…why are my zygomas wet?” He reached up to touch his cheekbones, his confused expression contorting into one of disgust. “feels like i’ve been cryin’. …i didn’t… do that, did i?”

 “…”

 “frisk.”

 “Yes, you did cry…”

 “how much?”

 “When you first woke up, when you woke up again, on and off nearly the entire ride home-”

 “holy sh-” He caught himself. “crap… oh crap… you… and you saw everything… you must’a been so embarrassed an’ grossed out.”

 “No, no, Sans… it’s… it wasn’t like that.” Frisk rubbed at her arm, averting her gaze.

 “then what was it like?”

 “…I’m not sure how to describe it.”

 “indescribable. just like paps said.”

 “…”

 He didn’t remember.

 He didn’t remember what he had said to her…

 It was taking every ounce of her willpower not to burst into tears herself.

  “You idiot. How could you let yourself believe, even for a second that-”

 “frisk… can you come ‘ere for a sec?” He asked, his tone quieter, softer.

 It wasn’t helping her wounded heart and SOUL at all that it was the same one he used when he had said all those beautiful things to her earlier. But she did as he requested and walked towards him, Sans not saying another word until she reached his bedside.

 “hey, sweetheart…” He lifted one hand to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her skin. “why ya cryin’?”

 She didn’t answer him. Instead, she ripped herself away from him and his touch, as painful as it was to do so, and turned around, refusing to face him.

 “babydoll? frisk?” He tried to unwind himself from the sheets, but she froze him in place once again.

 “Stop it! Just stop it, Sans! Please!”

 “stop what?! i don’t understand what your problem-”

 “No, you don’t, and that’s exactly what the problem is!” She wailed, knowing that she shouldn’t and couldn’t take out her feelings of hurt on Sans – none of this was his fault.

 It wasn’t his fault that she was an unlovable mess that also couldn’t accept even the most simple gestures of affection.

 Frisk stood there, crying her heart out and neither knowing quite entirely why until she decided she’d made a fool of herself enough for the night and quite possibly for the rest of her life. Just as she reached for the doorknob, his voice stopped her, barely above a whisper but somehow still audible over her sniffles and sobs.

 “sweetheart… i’m sorry…” Sans spoke, his voice filled with genuine sympathy and warmth.

 “Why… why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything…”

 “and that’s the problem. i… didn’t do something i was supposed to, right?” He smiled wearily at her. “i broke a promise. i promised i’d tell ya how much i loved ya when i woke up sober and then i didn’t.”

 “So… you remember?”

 “i do now.” He sighed, sitting up. “some things are still a little hazy… but, i remember everything that had to do with you. i… i meant everything, frisk. every word. what i said, those were just a handful of the things i think about when you’re on my mind, every day, constantly.”

 “Sans…”

 “but… you don’t feel the same, do you? i was thinkin’ you might of told me to wait because you were tryin’ to think of a way ta let me down easy, so i hesitated on telling you how i felt again. but then you started cryin’ for seemingly no reason except for i didn’t speak up when i said i would, so… i’m… kinda gettin’ some mixed signals here.”

 “…” Frisk still couldn’t say anything, even now.

 “come ‘ere, babydoll. let’s talk this out.” He patted the empty space next to him on the bed, urging her to sit down. “i’ve said how i feel, now it’s your turn. give me the honest truth. i can take it…”

 He was still expecting a rejection, and he had lied.

 He was certain he would dust instantly if she turned away his love.

 She sat down next to him, crawling up on the bed to sit crisscrossed. Frisk opened and closed her mouth several times, but nothing would come out. Not until Sans reached out to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back.

 “Sans… I… this is so hard for me to do.” She choked out.

 Sans’s posture stiffened.

 He was readying himself for a rejection.

 “It’s just… nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

 His shoulders first slumped out of relief, then jumped up with surprise.

 “…nobody ever said they loved you?” He had to say it himself just for the concept to soak in.

 “Never. I… Sans, you have to understand; nobody has ever treated me like you or the other monsters do. I spent my entire life believing that I must have been some sort of mistake, that I wasn’t supposed to be here and had no place in the world… So the reason I even ended up in the Underground in the first place… was…”

 “oh, sweetheart…!” He said in a gasp, gathering her up in his arms and began rocking her in their embrace. “oh, stars sweetheart, you don’t gotta say anything… not if you don’t want to. nobody’s forcing it out of ya. but… you don’t feel the same way now that you did then, do you?”

 “No, not anymore. And… it wasn’t like that, Sans. Not how you think it was.” Frisk gazed up at him, attempting to console him now even though she was the one crying. “I didn’t jump if that was what you were thinking. I climbed Mount Ebott as a self-imposed exile. I just… it was dark. I didn’t see that hole in the ground…”

 “even if ya didn’t jump, it’s still just too sad for my SOUL to take, sweetheart.” He held her tighter, his bones clattering softly. “you came all the way out there, all by yourself, because you were that lost and lonely… and you could of died!”

 “But I didn’t-”

 “but you still could have! you could have died when you hit the ground! you could’a snapped your spine in two… or broke so many bones that you couldn’t even walk… then you would of starved to death if some other monster didn’t find you and finish ya off… you would have died… and you might of never got the amount of determination to SAVE, LOAD, and RESET… and i never would have met you… oh, stars, it could’a happened!”

 He held her so tightly that it almost became difficult to breathe.

 Now he was sobbing.

 “frisk, i can’t even imagine what kinda life you must of lived before, but…” He released her just enough to grasp her face in his hands again. “everybody i know loves ya frisk, and even if they didn’t, even if everybody else in the world hated you, and everybody else in the world hated me for it… i would still love you.”

 “Sans…!” She buried her face back into his chest. “Sans, that’s… that’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear! Oh, stars, Sans! I love you too!”

 “shh, shh, shh… it’s alright, sweetheart. it’s ok to let it all out, but remember to breathe.”

 He was such a hypocrite, was what she might have wanted to say if she were less of a mess, but right now she just wanted to bask in the warmth of his love.

 His love for her and only her.

 After several more minutes of sobbing, they both had finally managed to compose themselves.

 “…Look at us. Now our faces are both a mess.” Frisk laughed.

 “you’re still beautiful, though.”

 Her cheeks turned red at that, but now it wasn’t flushed from crying.

 “Well, I thought that you looked cute when you were crying at the dentist’s office.”

 “‘ey, i thought i asked ya ta not talk about that.”

 “Alright…” She pretended to pout.

 Her expression was so cute that Sans couldn’t resist bending down to give her a peck on her scrunched up nose.

 “so… you love me.”

 “Yes, I do, Sans.” She quirked an eyebrow at him – it sounded like what he had to say was leading up to something.

 “so does this mean you’ll marry me?” Bless him, he sounded so excited when he asked her that.

 “No.”

 “oh…” And then his shoulders immediately sagged, along with the corners of his mouth.

 “Not yet, at least.” She patted the top of his skull placatingly with a chuckle. “It’s still a little soon for that, but… I’m also not saying it’s entirely out of the realm of possibility. Especially if you continue to be as sweet and loving as you’ve been tonight.”

 If Sans had a tail, it would have been wagging so fast it wouldn’t be detectable by the human eye.

 “really? ya mean it? then can i tell everyone we’re engaged?”

 “No.”

 “aww… no fun allowed.” This time it was Sans’s turn to pout. “…can i say we are to some of the guys that try ta mess with ya so they’ll screw off?”

 “…Maybe.” She almost laughed at how quickly his expression changed from sulky to joyful. “Why do you want to get married so quickly, anyway?”

 “because… back in the underground, that’s what you did when ya loved someone and they loved you back. it was kill or be killed, so if you didn’t do what you wanted to today, you might not get to tomorrow… so that was why i decided ta be different than everybody else and do absolutely nothin’.”

 “Pfft! Sans…” She hugged him. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, and with you and Papyrus around all the time, not to mention the others, I doubt anything will ever hurt me. The surface is different than the Underground. We don’t have to rush this relationship along – we can enjoy it at our own pace.”

 “ok, but… i’d still totally be down for marrying you right now if you agreed to it.”

 “At least take me out on a date, first!” She snorted, elbowing his ribs.

 “ok! then let’s go on one - right now!” He stood up, his steps wobbly as he rushed towards the door. “then we can get married after!”

 “Sans, where are you going?!”

 “to get something to eat. what else?!”

 “Wait, Sans! I don’t think that’s such a good idea!”

 “why not? we’re just going to grill- aaaugh!”

 Sans let out a startled cry as he lost his footing on the stairs, screaming during the entire duration of his descent. He landed face down on the floor with a pained groan.

 “Sans! Are you hurt?! Say something!” She shouted, hurrying down the steps herself as quickly and carefully as possible.

 Sans’s hands fluttered towards his mouth, his eye sockets wide.

 “ow… my… my tooth! oh stars, not my tooth again! it’s gone!”

 Frisk let out a horrified gasp, hands coming up to clasp at her own mouth.

 He turned around to face her, and then removed his hands, revealing a cheeky and toothy grin, his golden one clearly visible and gleaming from the brightness of the living room lights.

 “juuuust messin’ with ya.”

 “You… You…” Frisk seethed, “Forget being a pacifist! I’m gonna clean your clock!”

 She ran towards him with fists flailing. He chuckled, sidestepping every blow she tried to land on him with ease. All until she slipped on the rug and it raveled up beneath her. She tripped forward, and Sans held out his arms to catch her. The both of them ended up knocked to the floor, Sans underneath her and Frisk on top of him just like before.

 He wrapped a bulky arm around her waist and grinned.

 “oh, i remember this part from earlier too…”

 She tried to stay mad at him, she really did. But the sight of the smugness on his face melting into an eager smile as he leaned his head towards her with slightly puckered bony lips quickly extinguished any fury she may have previously felt.

 Frisk tilted her head to the side so her nose and his nasal ridge wouldn’t collide with each other, but he took the time to brush the tip of his against hers – a nose nuzzle, as they had called it Underground. Then they leaned towards each other more, about to close the distance between their lips for real for the first time.

 And at that moment, they heard the door open.

 Papyrus stood there, standing at the doorway still as a statue, his left eye socket twitching.

 None of them said a word for what felt like the longest, until…

  “this… is exactly what it looks like.

[lover-of-midnight]

The Last Dragon - Chapter 1

Ship: Geraskier, Pre- Merthur Leon/Morgana Warning: Some foul language Summary: Geralt and Jaskier were searching for a flower for Yennefer, when they were suddenly transported to Camelot, with no way to go home.

Extraction: Suddenly the roar was near them again. Geralt pulled his sword before anything could be said. The best rushed to the small party of people. Geralt quickly made the sign of aard, blasting the beast a few feet away. Before anyone can say anything or truly reacted was, he on the beast, his sword cutting through one of its legs. Jaskier gave a gently blast of earth magic, making sure that the knights will not be able to get too close to the creature. Word count: 1479 Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963676/chapters/60430018

Story is down belowe

“Geralt, are you sure we are going in the right direction?” Jaskier was slightly hesitant to ask the question, because one. Geralt was in a bloody mood and two. He is in no mood to be snarky today. Ever since Yennefer send them on bloody errands, well that was when the moods started. 

They had thought it would be just picking some flowers, but so far had they been to at least three places on the continent and they still have not found the flower Yennefer needs for her potion. Jaskier signed when Geralt only hmm for him. He could see that the last few days was waning on Geralt mood.

All three of them stopped suddenly. The meadow they were walking through had suddenly become a forest. Jaskier slowly lets his magic into the earth trying to figure out if there was something going on. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier voice was soft and tense. He struggled to pick up what type of magic was around them, it almost felt like portal magic just without the portal. “We can either go back and let Yen have a look at this or go forward and see where we are?” Geralt sounded even more agitated than he did the morning. Not that Jaskier can blame him. 

“I think we go back.” The earth seems to be screaming at them to get out of here. And he for one would really like to do just that. When they turned around, they could only see forest all around them. Geralt pushed with his hand where they stepped through his medallion could still feel the magic in the air. But nothing happened.

“It looks like we are forced to go forward Jaskier.” Both look at the foggy wood. Jaskier let the glamour fall, his Fae eyes would be much better to see in the dark spots of the forest. And if there is any reason for a fight well then at least he would be able to help. 

Both heard a sound that had them chilled to the bone. Geralt hand went to the pommel of his sword.  Shortly thereafter a beast run straited for them, jumping to different sides the beast mist them only with a few inches.

Its screeched made them both pushed their hands over their ears. The beast tore through the forest, disappearing. “What the fuck?” Geralt look slightly flustered. Jaskier gave him one look and just said “So, I assume you also do not know what that was?” His voice was slightly higher pitch than normal.

The silence was answer enough for Jaskier. They silently trudge forward after Geralt got Roach to calm down again. 

Geralt suddenly pulled Jaskier behind him, his mouth moving into a snarl when he saw knights. The first knight jumped off from his hoarse. “Who goes there?” His voice was commanding. As if he will not take a reason to do something stupid. Another boy dressed as a servant just rolled his eyes. 

Jaskier answered before Geralt could say something. “We are just travelling. I’m Jaskier and this is Geralt.” His eyes flickered around them. The knights look tensed as if they are searching for something.

“Where are you going?” The tone of the voice made Geralt snarled slightly. The knight hand was on the pommel of his sword. Jaskier could not but help to wonder how old he was. He was acting with confidence but at the same time he looked too young to be the leader of the knights.

“We are searching for a flower for a friend of us.” Jaskier made sure to keep his voice even. He could clearly see the black-haired boy looking at him, as if he could see through his glamour. The boy eyes kept on flickering between him and the leader of the knights. 

Suddenly the roar was near them again. Geralt pulled his sword before anything could be said. The best rushed to the small party of people. Geralt quickly made the sign of aard, blasting the beast a few feet away. Before anyone can say anything or truly reacted was, he on the beast, his sword cutting through one of its legs. Jaskier gave a gently blast of earth magic, making sure that the knights will not be able to get too close to the creature.

They watched in horror as the beast bit Geralt as he drove the sword through the beast palate. Jaskier let his magic go as he rushed to Geralt. A pissed off groan was answer enough to know that it hurt.

Geralt pluck his sword out of the monster. “Still have no idea what that thing is.” His voice was slightly hoarse. He falters slightly when he took a step back. “Fuck!” He casted a quick glance at his shoulder. He could feel the poison flow through his body. Geralt struggled to Roach, reaching for his potion bag when they heard the commotion behind them.

“Arthur!” The voice sounded mad. The rest of the knights were unsure if they should draw their swords or let them go. They all know the law. All sorcerers should be captured and both to be killed. But at the same time where they glad that they did not have to go up against the Questing beast.

Jaskier and Geralt watched with raised eyebrows as the two fight silently. Geralt swallowed half of the vial of Golden Orion and then dropped the other half into his wound. Jaskier silently stepped in front of Geralt when the boy made his why over to them. 

“Is he okay?” Jaskier could feel the chaos brimming in him, he never felt it this strong. “He would be the potion would get to work soon.” Jaskier made sure to keep his voice even. Geralt was still standing up, but he was not sure how much longer he would be able to stand. Or how long it would take him to work out the poison. The knight suddenly stepped forward.  

“You both are more than welcome to come and rest at the palace. The court physician would be able to make sure his wound is treated to.” The knight still had that confident sound to him. Jaskier shot a look at Geralt, unsure if they should accept the offer. Geralt just gave him a look that said, do whatever you want. 

“Not to be rude or anything, but we still do not know who you are.” The slight cold from his magic swept into his voice. The black-haired boy looks at him again, as if he wanted to ask him something but though better not to. 

The knight looked at them strangely. “I am Crowned Prince of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon. And these are the knights of Camelot.” His words sounded sarcastic, as if could not believe that anyone would not know where they are. Jaskier fell silent, he had heard stories hundreds of years ago, of magic taking people out of time zones, to set right what the people of the time could not. He gave Arthur a beautiful cold smile, before saying “We then accept your offer, thank you.” 

He watched as the knight nodded his head to the black-haired boy who had asked if Geralt was alright. The rest of the knights got back on there horses, slowly making there way back to Camelot. He could see that the prince was hanging to the back, making sure that he would be part of the last to leave.

“I am Merlin.” The black-haired boy said promptly. He shot a quick glance to the knights. “They will not tell the King about the fact that he has magic. But while in the castle and on these lands please be careful.” His sounded sad when he said it, that Jaskier just wanted to pull him into a hug and tell him everything would be okay. Before either of them could answer. “I can treat his wound. I am apprenticed to the court physician.” He trailed off when he realised, he had started to babble a little bit. 

Geralt gave him a weird look. Merlin hold his hand up in the general sign of unarmed. “Don’t worry about it.” Geralt voice was gruff. Merlin gave him an enquiring look. Jaskier just stepped in before a fight could break out. “I will look after it, when we get to the castle.” Jaskier said it without any bite. He could see that the kid just wants to help, but also knows it is better to leave Geralt alone when he is in this sort of mood.

Roach neigh behind them. Geralt was leaning slightly heavily on her. Geralt pulled himself upright, his hand on Jaskier shoulder. The marry got down so that the two men can climb on. Merlin watched them work in harmony. 

He wished that one day, he could also have that with Arthur.

[crystal-moon-101]

Name: Valerie Jay Grayson - ‘Owlet’

Nickname: Val, Little V, Mini Grayson, Grayson Girl, Bird Girl, Magic Bird, Flying Grayson, Valer, Vale, Baby Owl

Age: 13

Gender: Female

Birthday: April 4

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Ethnicity/Species: Romanian/Romani/Caucasian ‘British’/Italian/Irish - Homo Magi/Human  

Personality: Hyper, Fun Loving, Adorable, Resourceful, Loyal, Sassy, Impulsive, Emphatic, Eager, Clever, Understanding, Humorous, Hardworking, Lovable, Protective, Generous, Youthful, High-spirited, Alert, Stubborn, Somewhat Childish, Mostly Secretive

Hobbies: Animals, Training, Acrobatics, Learning Magic/Magic Tricks, Making sure everyone around her is happy (Or decent at least), Singing/Music (Knows guitar and piano from her father, but learnt saxophone at school for fun.)

Future Aspirations: She’s not exactly sure where the hero business will lead her, for now being fine remaining as Nightwing’s partner. However, she does wish to become a performer in her civilian identity, whether through her talent with music or acrobats, maybe even both. She also has this strange, but strong, desire to learn more about the Homo Magi race, her Grandmother and their homeworld.

Family:

Dick Grayson - (Father/Mentor - Very much a daddy’s girl, she exhibits many of his traits and qualities. She has been her father’s partner in crime since she was ten, roaming Bludhaven and training under Nightwing. She is very thankful that her father also treats her with respect, hardly ever hiding secrets that could affect her. She does what she can to impress him, looking up to him since she was little.)

Zatanna Zatara - (Mother - While she is a daddy’s girl, she will always love her mother. She learnt many of her spells and magical tricks from her, and will often confide in her mother whenever she has outbursts in powers or they react dangerously. She’ll often appear in Zatanna’s shows as her little assistant)

Bruno - (Pet Dog ‘Husky’ - Big fluffy guardian her father adopted behind Zatanna’s back. Bruno will almost always be by Valerie’s side when she’s around and is always a teddy she can cuddle with when she is unhappy.)

Maya - (Pet Cat ‘Mixed’ - A cat Uncle Damian gifted the family when Valerie was young. She was the pet that taught Valerie how to be patient and respect animals at a young age, as Maya was a shy kitten and now slightly vulnerable in her old age.)

Crumpet - (Pet Hedgehog - Her prickly little bean, that is all.)

Jason Todd - (Adopted Uncle-In-Law - Being the one to help deliver Valerie at birth after some...mishaps, her middle name is in honour to him. She has given him the ‘Fun Uncle’ title and she can get away with a lot of things around him. He did have a habit of giving her his version of the ‘Birds and Bees’ talk here and there as a young child, which angered Dick to no ends.)

Koriand’r - (Adopted Aunt-In-Law - Fun loving Aunt who adores any niece and nephew, Valerie being no exception. Kori will happily take Val flying, as the girl has a need for heights like her father.)

Miro Todd - (Adopted Cousin - Being one of the only other Bat Members to join the new Young Justice team, Valerie spends a lot of time with Miro and works well with him in battle, always supporting him in fights. Outside of that, she’ll always be up to hang out with him and Molly)

Molly Todd  - (Adopted ‘Cousin’ - Despite being Kori’s niece and not child between her and Jason, Valerie will always openly see Molly as true family. Before Blair, Molly was the only other girl on the team and other only Bat Member too, so the pair would have plenty of sleepovers that they knew the guys couldn’t handle.)

Blair Wilson - (Adopted Cousin - Despite being the granddaughter of Deathstroke, Valerie was quick to accept Blair in the team, understanding she never had a choice who her family was. Valerie was the one who taught Blair how to have a normal life, showing her things normal teenagers would enjoy. When it was revealed that Blair was Jason’s child, Val ended up caring for her even more, as this meant they were family. She vows to keep Blair out of Deathstroke’s hands if it’s the last thing she does.)

Tim Drake - (Adopted Uncle-In-Law - While Valerie can come off a little too much for someone like Tim to handle along, the pair do enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes it’s nice for Val to have someone calm to talk to.)

Stephanie Brown - (Adopted Aunt-In-Law - One of Valerie’s key babysitters in life. Steph never shy away from showing love to her family and Valerie will show it back always.)

Jett Drake - (Adopted Cousin - Jett is a hard case for her. He’s often anti-social and didn’t know how to handle her when she was much younger, thus is has been a little off-put by her since. Valerie understands this now and has grown strong people skills, so she doesn’t resent him for it. She is willing to take things slow for him.)

Everleigh Drake - (Adopted Cousin - Valerie will always volunteer to babysit her youngest cousin, watching the hell out of Disney movies with her forever.)

Damian Wayne - (Adopted Uncle-In-Law - Adore Damian, even if does the whole ‘I’m gonna act tough and neutral half of the time’ around her, like with Dick. But Damian has never said no to babysitting her or training her, has even displayed moments of protectiveness around her.)

Raven - (Adopted Aunt-In-Law - While most of her magical problems are worked around with her mother, Valerie has had many talks with Aunt Raven about dark magic, which does not work well with Homo Magis. She’s even had privates talks about it without her parents’ knowledge, as Raven promises to never reveal these secrets.)

Aaron Wayne - (Adopted Cousin - Part of a magical team with Caroline, Valerie spends a lot of time with Aaron. Both being magical Bat members and opposites, they just click. They know how to talk to one another and treat each other. Valerie never pushes Aaron into things he’s uncomfortable with, along with giving him social advice, while he will always be willing to listen to her rants or fears, along with being the blunt one her can snap her out of stress.)

Cassandra Cain - (Adopted Aunt - Valerie never treats Cass differently, despite how she can come across. Always openly hugging, talking and playing with her, even if Cass doesn’t talk back, mostly just smiling and going along with it.)

Katherine Kane - (Aunt Figure - Intense Auntie Kane is intense, but really cool. Valerie always has fun watching Kate kicking ass, while cheering her on from the sides.)

Renee Montoya - (Aunt Figure - The pair mostly come across each other through police work, whether it’s because of her father’s job or Owlet talking to police. Renee can respect the girl and what she pushing for, as can Valerie appreciate the work she pushes towards.)

Samual Kane - (Cousin Figure - An intense cousin who matches his mother. Valerie knows how to hold him back or argue back without losing her cool, and while he doesn’t say it, he can appreciate that from her.)

Barbara Gordon - (Aunt Figure - The sassy Aunt that never fails to make her laugh. She sometimes goes to Babs for specific advice that can be had to ask.)

Hugo Gordan - (Cousin Figure - With Hugo being very shy and nervous, Valerie is always willing to take things slow with him or speak for him.)

Bruce Wayne - (Adopted Grandfather - Grandbats loves to spoil all his grandkids. Valerie will often tease him, but she adores him. Though when Bruce watches her, it often reminds him of fond memories of when Dick was younger, so he knows how to handle parts of her personality and habits.)

Diana Prince - (Grandmother Figure - Adores Diana with a passion. Said Princess will always be willing to protect and teach her grandchild figure, often helping her understand her raw magical potential that she can struggle with.)

Alexsis Trevor - (Cousin Figure - Despite how off putting Alexis can act, Val isn’t afraid to joke with her or sass her back. She understands that Alex still needs time to understand the outside world.)

Giovanni Zatara - (Grandfather - At a young age, Valerie didn’t quite understand that Zatara and Dr.Fate were different entities, sometimes even thinking her Grandfather didn’t want to spend time with them. But as she came to understand the truth, she does her best to cherish the one hour each year they get to talk with her parents. However, it does hurt that she can’t get to know him better and how much her mother cries over it.)

Sindella - (Grandmother *Deceased* - She’s only heard stories of her Grandmother, the last pure royal Homo Magi. She’s always been meaning to find out more about her (along with the Homo Magi race) through her own means.)

John Grayson - (Grandfather *Deceased* - She will always be amazed when listening about stories from her father about her grandparents, wishing she could have met them.)

Mary Grayson - (Grandmother *Deceased* - She will always be amazed when listening about stories from her father about her grandparents, wishing she could have met them.)

William Cobb - (Great-Great-Grandfather - Her father never lied to her and was very open about the story they had with the Court Of Owls, preparing Valerie in case they would ever come after her. It is unknown wether the Court want her or not, but she has come into contact with her Great-Great-Grandfather, but he didn’t say much before vanishing.)

Weakness/Flaws/Fears: Unable to cast most spells if she can not speak. She is still young and learning, along with having a body not fully developed. Strength, and often defence, isn’t her biggest trait. Much like her father, she struggles to deal with her own negative emotions, which can also badly affect her magic. Dark Magic can linger, sometimes hurting her, whenever she must use it. Her kindness and forgiving nature can be used against her. Puts herself in danger to protect others way too often. Feels the need to take care of everyone, sometimes forgetting basic health care. Powerful magical seals. Taking away her utility belt and ‘toys’, will hinder her. Known to have dangerous magical outbursts and mishaps. Because of her acrobatic skills, taking out her legs, sometimes arms, can limit her movement. Allergic to certain types of flowers. Atychiphobia (Fear of failure, mostly towards other people). Thanatophobia (Fear of death. There have just been moments where she nearly lost someone, and in this line of business, she knows one day it’ll come true). Coulrophobia (Fear of clowns. And this was before she even met the Joker).

Extra:

Infinite Utility Belt - Valerie just seems to have way too many items that should not be able to fit into her utility belt. Weapons, tools, snacks, accessories, first aid, chalk, toys, stapler, fishing rod, you name it. No one is sure if she used a magical charm on it and she won’t tell.

Owls! - From a young age, owls have been her favourite animals. Her main plushie is an owl, she dreams of having an owl pet and her hero identity reflects an owl. Of course, the irony being her blood connection to the Court Of Owls has been noted, mostly through her father who did once try to sway her interest, only to fail.

Representing Song: Am I Wrong - Nico and Vinz

Friends:

Caroline Constantine - (Best Friend/Magic Member - Caroline hangs out with Aaron and Valerie in their magical squad. Both met at a young age when John needed someone to babysit Caroline, leaving her with the Graysons. The two have since then been very close, Valerie always willing to listen and give her advice, whether social or magical. Val is also very determined to ship her with Aaron, as they two clearly like each other!)

Adax Hyde - (Friend/Teammate - Being the timidest member, Valerie never pushes him and knows how to draw tension away from him. She understands his deep issues about his placement in life, as she can sometimes relate.)

Apollo West - (Friend/Teammate - With Wally and Dick’s close friendship, there were plenty of times where the family would hang out and Valerie and Apollo would spend time together. They often treat each other likes siblings at times, annoying one another, pranking each other and will always tease the other relentlessly. But they do have their sweet moments and know how to cheer each other up.)

Otto Kent - (Friend/Teammate - Valerie can respect Otto leadership in the team, but she will take command if he can not. It’s easy for the two to get into debates on how to tackle a mission, hearing each other out and working well together.)

Wally West  - (GodFather - Her other main babysitter, she loves Wally like he is family. That doesn’t stop her from teasing him or pulling a prank on the man.)

Artemis Crock - (GodMother - Artemis was one of the only ones who could keep both Apollo and Valerie in line when they are in the same room, their relationship very much reminding her of younger Dick and Wally. So, Valerie respect the woman, but loves her like family.

Most Superheroes/Justice League members

Enemies:

Deathstroke

Court Of Owls

Most Gotham/Bludhaven Villains

N/A

Skills:

Magic (Mostly through casting backwards spells. But she’s been learning ones that don’t require speech.) Multilingualism-(Romanian/English/Japanese/Spanish/Russian/Arabic/German/Korean/Cantonese/Mandarin/ASL/Some Latin). Advance Hand-to-Hand Combat/Martial Arts. Acrobatics. Computer Hacking. Acting. Driving (Mostly with motorbikes, but she does know how to drive a car, just can be a little chaotic with her age). Leadership (Not perfect, as she is still young. But she knows how to take charge when she is needed.) Basic Mechanics. Supernatural Agility/Speed/Reflexes/Stamina/Accuracy. High Intelligence/Willpower. Stealth. Tracking. Weaponry. Marksmanship. Decent Swordsmanship. Empathy (Can be through the use of magic, but mostly because of her Grayson side). Flexible. Medical Knowledge. Her gloves have clawed tips.

[antiquecompass]

Ficlet: Found

Wherein Lan Wangji is on a mission to find his law-brother, his nephew, and his soul mate. (Also on Ao3).

Gossip was forbidden in the Cloud Recesses proper, indulged in the greater Winter Court, and required in most of the world to pick apart the threads of truth at the core of all the fantastical stories bred out of rumors. Lan Wangji did not participate in gossip, but he had ears, and he’d always been the most observant of the Winter Court. Many assumed that because he did not speak often, or at length, that he remained aloof to all around him, as if his desire to be left to his own thoughts somehow made him deaf to the words that swirled around him. He never corrected that assumption; it allowed him to do his job and do it well.

He was the Crown Prince of the Winter Court, but more importantly, he was the Winter King’s most trusted weapon. And his brother, absent a portion of his memory, missing half his heart and soul, deprived of the silent power and strength that came from his husband, needed his most trusted weapon, his brother, his confidant, to do his job and do it well.

Escaping to the Other Side was easy. Claiming that it was to find Wei Ying was a partial-truth, and one everyone in the Court would believe. He would find Wei Ying, he had to, to see with his own eyes that he was well, but his ultimate goal was to find his law-brother and bring him home.

Lan Wangji understood the need to run, to protect, to hide, but their family was strongest together and the Winter Court would not lose one of its own again. Not under his watch and not under his brother’s reign. His brother would not become the shell that had once been their father before he faded into nothingness. And while father’s had been a slow death, Xichen’s would be quick, even for the Sidhe.

The one major downfall of true soulmates and love matches.

Even though he knew Jiang Cheng had held back from fully combining their powers, their souls, and their wills, had done it to protect the Winter King should he be harmed or killed, Xichen didn’t know how to love but with everything in him.

Wangji was equally matched with his brother in this, as he was with so much else.

The risk and cost were worth it, for when a Lan gave their heart, they gave it full and true.

Gossip led him to a tavern in a city called Cambridge on the water of a river call Charles. The Temple looked perfectly normal from the outside, like any other building, its glamour strong and holding, its protective shield’s roots deep and strong. For those with a touch of magic in their blood, the oil street lamps outside of it burned with welcoming flames, beckoned them closer. This was a place for Wanderers and Wayfarers alike, but it had been built by Wayfarers and it called them home.

Lan Wangji shifted in the unfamiliar stiff clothing he wore. The denim jeans rough against his skin, the plaid shirt too tight for his liking, but he was to fit in here and the Realm Jumper, Varro, promised him that these clothes would work best. Wangji missed the softness of his robes, the heavy, grounding weight of his hair piece and circlet, the comfort of Bichen by his side. They were all packed up in the pouch now shrunk to what Varro called ‘wallet-sized’ and stuffed in one of his pockets.

Inside he found the typical stink of a bar, added to it the stench of wolves and bears, some demons, wizards, and various other magical folk. A Sprite stood in the corner, a source of calm, light-green energy surrounding him, but all eyes were on the Sidhe standing on top of the bar, drunkenly singing a horribly inappropriate tune.

Absolutely shameless.

Wei Ying would join him, surely, if he were here.

The Sidhe stopped mid-song as Wangji fully crossed the barrier into the establishment, his power sending a series of warning flames to the candles spaced throughout the tavern. His presence was powerful, even masked, and by the Right of Hospitality, he could not hide it stepping into this place of business and home.

The Summer Sidhe at the bar raised his glass.

“All hail the Crown Prince of the Winter Court!” he yelled, golden hair flying about him. “Those ice statue fucks rarely come down from their mountain hall. What brings you to the Other Side, little prince? Ready to finally rid yourself of your maidenhead?”

Wangji didn’t spare him a glance as he walked further into the bar.

“I was speaking to you, Ice Prince,” the Sidhe called after him.

“You are not qualified to speak to me,” Wangji said as he continued on, further into the bar, past the tables full of patrons, to a back corner where a Puck sat.

Bard Nasir had once been the golden jewel of Ville. Like so many Pucks he had been chained there by tradition and law, but it was Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng who helped the Sidhe Queen of Ville’s plan to smuggle him out, the Winter Court that offered a refuge, and it was now that Wangji came to collect on those favors.

Nasir pulled away from the wolf draped across him and immediately stood and bowed.

“Unnecessary,” Wangji said.

Nasir laughed. “Ever the same, Prince Wangji. I take it you are not here with glad tidings?”

He shook his head. “Lotus Pier was fallen. I seek news of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.”

“Are they not together?” Nasir asked. A worried look crossed his face, causing the wolf from earlier to stand behind him, a menacing glare thrown Wangji's ways. Mates then. Nasir had found and done the impossible, Curse of the Pucks be damned.

“The Winter King’s husband is missing?” Nasir said, voice shocked.

Wangji stayed silent and still as the news hit Nasir. A streak of curses followed that brought an entire pack of wolves around them.

“Stand down,” Nasir ordered. “He is a friend.”

“He is a Sidhe,” a blonde she-wolf hissed.

“He is of the Winter Court, Saxa,” Nasir explained. “And they offered refuge and care when the Summer Court brought pain and destruction. He brings me news of people I owe my freedom to, and I will gladly help find them, if they are lost.”

“It was the Wens,” Wangji said.

Nasir cursed again. “Were any left standing?”

“All were frozen or burnt to death, at least those who didn’t drown or have lotus blossoms take root and bloom and explode inside them,” he explained.

The mess he’d found at Lotus Pier once his brother returned to the Winter Court had shocked him. The bodies of Jiang Yanli and her husband were still missing. An entire group of Jiang Clan survivors had been found, safe, locked in a protective bubble under the throne room of Lotus Pier. A Yu cousin was leading the survivors now, their own little pocket in the Winter Court, a marriage contract honored even if the Winter King’s husband was gone.

Lan Wangji took a soothing, deep breath. He needed to find Wei Ying. He needed to find Jiang Cheng. And he would, even if he'd have to beg. He would have his family restored.

“I thought Lotus Pier was a warm place,” one of the wolves said, the low light catching on the gleam of his nose-ring. “How does a fire demon freeze to death?”

“The Winter King is far more powerful than people give him credit for,” Nasir explained. “He is kind as a summer, yes, but ruthless when it comes to his family.”

“What does that mean?” the wolf asked.

“It means he called to the water inside of the blood of the attackers and froze them from the inside out,” a ghost, hovering over the wolf’s shoulder, said.

“Holy shit,” the wolf said.

“Indeed,” Wangji agreed. “Have you heard any news? Jiang Cheng would be traveling with a babe, possibly in its pup form.”

And Jiang Cheng, tall, powerful, glowing violet eyes and a frown for miles would stand out with a small child or pup strapped to him. There had to be some gossip out there Wangji could use to find his trail.

“He stole a pup?” one of the wolves roared.

“Peace, Donar,” Nasir said, speaking to a mountain of a wolf. “It is his nephew. Madame Jiang, Wizard Jiang, was mated to a member of the Nie-Jin Pack.” He turned to Wangji. “Would he seek refuge with them? Would they extend it?”

Possibly, but Jiang Cheng had come in through the Southern Seas, at least that’s what he’d heard from the rumors, and that was far removed from the Nie Pack territory. Still, it was a thing to consider.

A commotion at the front door stopped his next words. The entire bar went silent as the warning flames shot up around them, turned black, and then died all at once.

“What the fuck? A Necromancer? Here?”

“Black flames? What do black flames mean?”

“Why does it feel like a Dementor is about to descend?”

“For the last time, Duro, Harry Potter isn’t real.”

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! You’re here!”

Wangji braced himself as Wei Ying barreled through the bar, launching himself into the air and landing in Wangji’s arms.

“I told you my tracking spell and compass would work!” he said, eyes and smile bright.

“That’s a Necromancer?”

“More of a mad scientist,” he heard Nasir explain.

Wangji nearly collapsed with relief at having Wei Ying whole and hale in front of him. There were no wounds he could see, no physical pain he could sense, his eyes glowed briefly, the hidden, powerful red, as his smile relaxed to something softer. He was beautiful and alive and here.

The words were there, on his tongue, words he had yet to say, words his cousins and brother had urged him not to hold back, not anymore.

But those words were selfish now, with the news he had to impart. So he kept them to himself, even as his heart and soul screamed at him to give them voice. Just a little bit longer, he vowed. Just until they found Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling.

“Wei Ying,” he said.

“I know,” Wei Ying said, curling up and resting his head on Wangji’s shoulder. “I know Lotus Pier fell. I was trying to give one last burst of energy, but my magic malfunctioned and dropped me off on Lan Yi’s table. Right on it. Right in the middle of her breakfast. Got syrup in places no one should. My parents found me and told me of the rest.”

“Your brother?” he asked.

Wei Ying lifted his head and frowned. “I’m still searching for him. My compass lit up once, but it was gone in the blink of an eye and his path hidden. He’s always been so good at protection spells, and the water will hide him if he asks it. I’ve been waiting for a reply to come from the Nie Pack, but you know the Alpha Mate can’t stand me.”

Wei Ying had raised an entire pack of dead ancestral Nie Wolves at Rusong’s Naming. It was little wonder Meng Yao wanted Wei Ying far away from his pack, his son, and his home.

“Did you find my sister?” he asked.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji said, sadness in his words.

“She’s not dead,” Wei Ying insisted, his eyes flashing red again, the scent of sulfur briefly in the air. “I would know. My parents would know. She wouldn’t leave us or her son. She’d be a ghost. And she’s not.”

“Her body was not at Lotus Pier. Nor her mate’s,” Wangji said.

“Then Jiang Cheng got them out,” Wei Ying said. “He had to have done it. Sent them off to the Sirens to heal. I know him. He’d do that. He’d sacrifice everything to protect the family.”

He would. He did. He had.

The Sprite approached them, his calming energy soothing the ruffled fur and feathers and feelings of all in the bar.

“Not that we don’t welcome all here who have good hearts and good intentions,” he said.

“Yes, yes, I make people nervous,” Wei Ying said. He slid out of Wangji’s arms and grabbed hold of one of his sleeves. “Lan Zhan, let’s get some food. I’m hungry. And then we can go see our Grand Dames. Can we get some fried dough? It’s so good.”

Wangji nodded to Nasir in acknowledgment as Wei Ying pulled him towards the door. As they passed all the flames came back, the bar started to live and breathe again, the noise returning.

Wangji only had eyes for the Necromancer in front of him, his high ponytail bouncing as he listed all his favorite new foods.

Wangji hadn’t had a reason to smile in many days, but now he allowed himself this one selfish moment of joy.

Wei Ying slung an arm around his shoulder once they were in the streets. “I knew you would find me,” he said. “You always do.”

And all the gods willing, he always would.

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 4

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo starts classes. A lunch with peers ends up with more than he bargained for.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Later that night, still trying to reckon with the strange feeling Demyx had inflicted upon his magic, Ienzo went to Aeleus to tell him what he’d witnessed.

“A Heartless, here?” he asked. “You’re sure of what you saw?”

“I killed it myself.” Ienzo sighed. “Though--it did not reek of darkness, the way they usually do. Perhaps a newborn?”

He frowned. “Potentially. I’ll--reach out to my contacts, and see if they know anything.”

Ienzo nodded. Aeleus and Even had claimed the downstairs study as their own, jockeying for space in a strange show of dominance. “There’s… something else worth mentioning.”

“And that is?”

“The… boy I saved. He’s part of one of the bloodlines.”

“And he could not defend himself?”

Ienzo shrugged. “I was confused as well. I was going to wipe his memories--but he showed me this pendant, this rune. I wish I’d gotten a better look at it.” He sighed. “He also gave me his phone number.”

“Might be worth associating with him--if so just to learn something.”

“Unless his is one of the bloodlines associated with Xehanort.”

“It’s… possible, I admit. But if the boy could not fell one Heartless, I doubt he could hurt you .”

Ienzo felt a rush of affection towards Aeleus. Unlike Even, who tried to protect him from everything, Aeleus had faith in Ienzo’s abilities. Martially, he had trained him, and Ienzo’s spells spoke for themselves. “I shall… keep an eye on it.” He bit his lip, than forged forward. “When we spoke… I felt something in my magic. I’m not sure what , as it did not seem like any spell I’ve ever encountered, or read about.”

Aeleus’s eyes glinted. “That is… curious. Was it like a pull, a thrall, perhaps?”

“I don’t think so… but it was… odd.”

“What did the pendant look like?”

Ienzo described it, and Demyx, as much as he could.

Aeleus just seemed more confused, furrowing his brow. “None of the bloodlines have that resemblance. You said it looked halved?”

“Yes.”

He knotted his hands. “I will ask about that too… but Ienzo. Please, as charming and normal as this boy might be… be careful.”

“I… will.”

---

This settled, Ienzo began classes.

It was strange, to take transport by himself, to have some modicum of independence. Even texted and called him constantly, worrying over him. But for the most part, Ienzo’s first days at the university were… ordinary.

He found himself rather bored with his coursework. A lot of the general education classes were just that-- general , and given the limited amount of courses afforded to him due to his late enrollment, not what he was particularly interested in. He found himself saddled with Intro to Psychology, City-State Culture and You, Music from the 43rd Century On, Women in Contemporary Literature, and Magic and the Law. Of this courseload, only psychology and literature were intriguing, though, he found, incredibly easy. Five page papers? One chapter readings? He aced assignments easily, found himself both grateful and frustrated that Even had been so demanding in his education. It gave him plenty of free time to study on his own.

His psychology professor actually stopped him one day after class. The lecture hall consisted of ninety students, and Ienzo was not the most colorful character there, literally speaking. “Ienzo, right?”

He adjusted his grip on his bag. “Yes, sir?”

“Forgive me--you’re not in trouble for anything,” the man said. He was older, a little wizened, with thick dark hair partially pulled up. “I’m just a little… I suppose, bemused would be the word. Clearly--you’re already beyond the mark of anything you’ll learn here. Your last paper was testament to that. I hadn’t even read some of the sources you cited.” He smiled. “Why haven’t you tried to test out of these basic courses? I’d love to see you in one of my three or four hundred level modules, where you might actually be challenged .”

Ienzo hesitated, feeling something like pride and, at the same time, anger. It was Even’s idea for him to go to school. Why hadn’t he told him this was an option? “Simply because I did not know I could,” he admitted. “Though that must be lack of foresight on my part.”

“That, or an overworked advisor.” His professor exhaled. “Let me speak with them. I’m happy to keep you in this class, but you’d be bored to tears.”

“That would be… much appreciated.”

---

Ienzo was still pondering over this dilemma, unsure of how to respond to Even’s latest messages, a warm anger budding under his skin. Why would Even deliberately hold him back? He slid into his seat in his music class, prepared to simply disappear into the lecture hall and read for the class time. His professor chatted on about assignments (papers which were usually simply reactions to that week’s listening assignment), but before she launched into the lecture, she decided to introduce the class’s new TA. Ienzo felt him before she even said the name.

Demyx.

The boy must’ve felt him too; his eyes snapped towards Ienzo’s, and he gave him a smile. Ienzo returned it hesitantly. Demyx sat at a desk besides the professor’s podium before he was asked to handle attendance, which he did, carrying around a clipboard. When he got to Ienzo, he said in a low voice, “got to say, did not picture you as the music appreciation type.”

“I’m not. Most other classes were full.”

The grin got wider. “I do not want to be back where you were.”

Ienzo scribbled down his name. “Nor do you seem to be the type to be a TA.”

He shrugged. “I could use the free credits. Besides, Ariel is an awesome teacher. Say. You busy, after this? Couple of us were going to go get lunch in town.”

An opportunity to learn more, Ienzo reminded himself, feeling his heart catch bizarrely. “I could eat.”

“Good. Now I gotta get going. See you, Zo.”

It took Ienzo a moment to realize this was a nickname, too long to form a witty retort. He’d had aliases before, of course.

He’d never had a nickname.

The warm prickling feeling in his magic increased, and for some reason, he sighed.

---

As class wound down, Ienzo felt himself getting anxious. Talking to Demyx was one thing, given how they'd met. But talking to others? Ienzo did not know how to socialize, what to talk about. What were people his age into, their music and TV shows and entertainment? What did they do for fun? What if one of them figured him out? Should he simply be very boring so he was not invited back?

Should he be himself?

(Who was that?)

"Zo! Ready?" Demyx had a messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

"Yes."

Demyx clapped his shoulder; the touch was startling. "Awesome. Come on. We're meeting people there."

"Oh, who?" How much did he have to mentally prepare?

"My friend Lea, his roommate Roxas, this girl Yuffie, oh, and one of my roommates, Riku. Just a few of us. And maybe Riku's boyfriend and girlfriend if they're free, I have no idea." He shrugged. "Depends if I run into anyone else."

"Collecting people," Ienzo remarked.

Demyx laughed a little. "Sort of."

Ienzo tried to swallow his nerves. Demyx chatted happily as they left campus, going down some of the older and narrower cobble streets of the city. Ivy spilled over everything, the warm and soft light soothing on Ienzo's eyes after the harsh fluorescents of the lecture hall. "Are you from here?" Ienzo asked. "This city."

"Nope," Demyx said cheerfully. "I'm from Destiny Islands."

An archipelago off of the west coast. "A long way traveled for school," Ienzo said carefully.

Demyx just shrugged.

"Demyx!" The voice was shrill. A small, dark haired woman had her hands on her hips. "I've been waiting for ever. I'm starving."

"I'm sure you didn't die," Demyx replied. "Everyone here?"

She sighed. "Nope. They wouldn't let me grab our normal table until I had more of a "party." I cannot believe , after how much we've invested in this place." She smiled slyly. "Who's your friend?"

"Ah--right. This is Ienzo--uh--"

"Avella," he provided the fake name helpfully. "I take it you're Yuffie?"

"The one, the only." She grasped his hand and shook it roughly. "And don't you forget it."

"...For some reason I don't see that happening."

Demyx smiled. He rested his hand on the small of Ienzo's back, simply meaning to usher him forward. The touch was sudden and disconcerting. He thought of that blue pendant, beneath Demyx's shirt, probably warm with skin--

They were granted a table this time, a corner booth in this small restaurant. All the furniture was mismatching, and Ienzo could see the cook working at the grill behind the bar. "Is that the whole kitchen?" He asked.

"Yep!" Yuffie said cheerfully. "So I hope you're not in a hurry."

Ienzo sighed. He was rather hungry. "I suppose lunch is now an afternoon, isn't it?"

She laughed. "Demyx, you didn't say he was this cute."

Demyx flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Aw, come on," he said instead.

"Table of losers, anyone?" The lankiest person Ienzo had ever seen added.

"Ugh, who brought in the trash?" Yuffie asked, wrinkling her nose.

"That would be me," a blond boy said, rolling his eyes. "Demyx."

"Hey."

Four people was a lot to juggle, Ienzo realized. A waitress gave them some water. As Lea and the blond (Roxas?) regaled Demyx of some skateboarding incident, Yuffie leaned over. "You been here long?" She asked.

"To town? Is it that obvious?"

"You smell like a freshman, but you don't look like one. Dope hair, by the way. How'd you get it to tone down that color? I tried going gray once and it was a disaster." She grinned widely.

Ienzo sighed heavily. "I'm afraid it was all a bit of a mistake," he lied smoothly. "A friend of mine was a cosmetologist and needed a guinea pig. It was supposed to be blond--or so she said." He shrugged.

"Gotta stand out, right?" Lea said. "Where are you from, and how did you con your way to us?"

Meant to be a joke, but Ienzo found himself fighting to stay composed. "Demyx collected me at the library," he said vaguely.

"He was lost," Demyx lied, equally as smoothly.

"You can never leave well enough alone," a new voice added, and Ienzo's head snapped up. He felt the prickle of magic before he could really comprehend who he saw; a tall boy with silver hair. They held eye contact for a moment too long; Ienzo noticed Demyx's jaw clench the slightest. So he knew, too. What was going on? Had Ienzo been lured here? He realized he'd been seated in a corner. Should he excuse himself for the restroom, and leave? Or mine what he could from this exchange?

"This is Riku," Demyx said, taking a sip of water. "My roomie. Remember?"

Ienzo nodded. "Ienzo. Pleasure."

Riku dropped his things at the only available seat. "Nice to meet you."

Ienzo probed at the boy's energy. It felt… odd. Not quite normal. That hair--he couldn't not have magic. Equally, he felt Riku probing him , his teal eyes cautious and calculating. Riku knew something.

"So you're new to Twilight Town," Riku said, with a hint of skepticism. "Why here?"

Ienzo had to be careful. "I've heard good things about the marine biology program," he said. "That aside… my family thought it might be a good fit for us. The city, I mean."

"The darkness has been driving a lot of people out of their homes," Riku said. "It's… it's horrible."

"Indeed it is," Ienzo levelled. He didn't know what to read into that. "Are you from here, then?"

"He's from the islands, like me," Demyx volunteered. It was a casual enough remark, but Ienzo could grasp at the implications. They were magic users who had found one another.

"How fascinating," Ienzo remarked, consulting the menu. "I thought Destiny Islands had a rather small population."

"Oh, it does," Riku said, with an eyeroll. "Somehow we're the only two idiots who didn't know each other."

"That is quaint," Ienzo said. "Now. What is good here?"

He spent the rest of this lunch participating in inane conversations about nothing much. It took most of an hour for the food to arrive. Riku glanced at Ienzo now and again, curious, suspicious; the boy's magic could not penetrate him. Once the meal was over with--the check split awkwardly--they all left.

"Hey, Zo, wanna hang?" Demyx asked. "Or do you have any more classes?"

"I've got some time," he said. He had to know more about them.

Demyx smiled. "Awesome. Our place isn't too far from here."

Ienzo followed them, letting his magic wake up. Demyx brought him to an apartment building; Ienzo immediately sensed wards. They climbed two flights of stairs before Riku unlocked the door.

It certainly seemed like an apartment two young men lived in; the furniture was haphazard at best, and while it was clean, it was cluttered, and dull. Riku shut and locked the door, whispered a spell. Then, to Demyx, "what is going on. Is this a joke to you?"

"Hey! You told me to keep an eye out, and I did. So." He scowled.

Oh. So Demyx's friendly interest in him was a ruse; he shouldn't have been so disappointed. He braced his magic.

"I didn't think that the person you referred to would be--" He exhaled heavily, raking a hand through his hair.

"Care to explain?" Ienzo asked coolly.

Riku locked eyes with him. "What's your line?"

"What's yours?"

"Does it matter?" Demyx asked quickly.

"I mean, yeah, it does. If he's one of Xehanort's puppets --"

"I most assuredly am not," Ienzo said. "I take it you're not either."

Riku tried to frisk him again. "Who are you?"

"A person of no importance."

"Yeah, right. With the magic you're packing?"

"Guys. Guys. Let's settle down, okay?" Demyx asked. "Let's just talk."

Ienzo furrowed his brows. "Okay. Talk." He knew he had to be careful. “Were you looking for other magic users?” he asked Demyx.

He shrugged. “Not, like, consciously. But if it happens…”

“So you’re a seeker, then.” He shook his head.

“Not a… dark seeker,” Demyx said. “That sounds way too tiring. I just… I dunno. If some kid pops up, gotta keep them safe, you know?”

“Not that you need it,” Riku said. “You’re the one that saved him, aren’t you?”

Ienzo sighed. “Yes.”

Riku sat on the lumpy, ancient couch. “Guess our friend was right,” he said to Demyx.

The accused shrugged, his eyes on the ground.

“Right about what?”

“Things are changing here,” Riku said. “You can feel it. Something’s… not right. I’m not sure what you have to do with it.”

“He says he’s not with Xehanort. Shouldn’t you trust that?” Demyx asked.

“People lie,” Riku said simply.

“I’m not lying ,” Ienzo spat, feeling his anxiety spike. He had to remind himself he was the strongest of all of them; not that he particularly wanted to fight. “For all I know, maybe you are.”

Demyx rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Then prove it,” Riku said. “Why shouldn’t I report you right now?”

“Because--” How to prove his innocence without revealing his real identity? He took a breath. “Reporting me will just make the situation go from bad to worse.”

“Why?”

“Lives could be on the line.” He stuck his chin out defiantly. “I’m with the resistance. Report me and part of the network collapses.” Not technically a lie. “I suspect you are as well.”

“...We’re independent,” Riku said instead. “We’re not with anyone. But…” Cautious now. “The resistance is still around?”

Had he just made an even bigger mistake? “...Yes.”

“Thought all those guys were gone,” Demyx said.

“Most of us are in hiding in some form or another.”

“Huh,” Riku said softly. “Who would’ve thought.”

“Fighting Xehanort might be futile… but if we don’t, we’re complicit,” Ienzo said.

“He’s collecting them,” Demyx said. “When he can find them. Bloodlines. Made easier by the government rounding us up.”

“Like cattle,” Riku added. “Easier for the Heartless to breed if nobody can kill them.”

“But Twilight Town’s been neutral,” Ienzo said. “They wouldn’t just hand over--”

“A few people in exchange for stopping the darkness causing complete collapse of everything? Dunno.” Riku shrugged. “But right now here is the safest place to be. After the islands…” A sigh.

“I’d heard. I’m truly sorry. I… know how it feels.”

Demyx worried at the pendant. “I try not to think about it too much. All you can do, you know?” He cleared his throat.

“This… resistance,” Riku began cautiously. “Could you get me in touch?”

Ienzo kept his expression blank. “I could.”

“I know you don’t trust me. Why would you? I wouldn’t trust me either.” He held out his hand. “But I won’t sell you out if you don’t sell me out.”

Ienzo took it. Riku was telling what he believed to be the truth. “Alright. Deal.”

Ienzo left soon after; Even was bugging him incessantly. Your class ended three hours ago, why aren’t you home? Ienzo scowled. Demyx followed him out. “Hey… Zo,” he began.

“Yes?” he asked neutrally.

Demyx rubbed his arm. “I didn’t… look, I didn’t invite you along so Riku could interrogate you. Honestly. I wanted…” He trailed off. “I do want to get to know you. Really.”

Why ? Ienzo nearly asked. He thought briefly of how it had felt when Demyx touched the small of his back.

He blushed. “Why don’t we… get together, sometime? As--as friends,” he backpedaled quickly. “Real friends, not…”

Ienzo smiled tiredly. This day had sapped his energy. “I might enjoy that--if you don’t get killed by more Heartless, that is.”

Demyx laughed a little. “So… I’ll call you sometime?”

“Sure.” There it was again, that warmth.

“And Ienzo?”

“Yes?”

“Get home safe, okay?”

[imagine-loki]

Gifted

TITLE: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 12/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

Loki stepped out of the portal with you in his arms and you appeared right inside the healing wing on Asgard. “Someone call the queen,” Loki ordered, his voice a regal command, a tone you rarely heard out of him, despite that he was a prince.  He usually didn’t exert royal privilege, except for now, when you were injured. “Lady Y/N is in need of healing,” his words and tone were calm, a practiced court voice, despite the royal orders in his tone. His orders were followed immediately and the servants and staff went running to see them done.

“We need to go to the cemetery,” you murmured, practically against Loki’s neck. Your brain had focused on that idea for some reason. It was vitally important that that task was accomplished. “Have to pay respects.“ It was rude not to do that first. You had to pay your respects to Torun.  It was tradition on Asgard that the first thing you would do is go pay your respects.

"We will go once you feel better. Torun will understand,” Loki told you softly.  His voice had gentled to speak to you. He carried you to one of the private rooms in the healing wing and laid you gently on the bed.

“Loki? I did not know you were returning already,” you heard the queen’s voice from the doorway.  Of course she had come at Loki’s call. She was the best healer in the realm after all. 

“I had not expected to return so soon either, Mother. Circumstances necessitated my early return.” He stepped aside to she could see you lying on the bed in the healing room. You were too weak to sit up properly.  That wasn’t going to convince Frigga that you were alright.  

Her formal decorum dropped at once and she rushed over to the bed. You knew it was bad once her formal decorum had dropped. She sad next to the bed on your right side and placed her glowing gold hands over you. “How did this happen?” she asked Loki calmly. You were surprised at her calm, despite the near franticness of her actions.  Loki opened his mouth to reply, but before he could she interjected. “Hold her. She is going to seize,” she ordered. Somehow her voice was still calm, despite the severity of the situation. Loki held your body down, his hands glowing green. You felt his presence wrap around your mind to protect it while your body spasmed. Thankfully, it was over quickly through their efforts and you barely remembered it, thankfully. 

Frigga was the best healer in the realm, and it had been she who taught Loki his healing skills.

Even she could only do so much.

“Mother, would you like assistance?” Loki asked formally. It would be rude to just jump in, especially since healers could so easily interfere and disrupt the progress of the others if multiple healers were working on the same patient. It could only be done at all if the healers were used to working magic together.

“Not yet. I will let you know if your magical assistance is required,” Frigga replied, just as formally. She indicated the other side of your bed with a nod of her head. “Sit, hold her hand and tell me what happened to land my daughter in this state.” You looked away from her, embarrassed by your folly in ending up here, and her term of ‘daughter’ made you feel worse. 

You kept neglecting to fully accept the consequences of the soulbond with Loki. Namely that you were a princess here, and therefore Frigga’s daughter-in-law. By Asgardian custom you were Loki’s wife. Loki took your left hand in his right. His mother sighed. “Your left hand, darling,” she told him dryly. You couldn’t help laughing at the reminder of where he got at least some of his humor from. Frigga smiled indulgently at you while Loki flushed and switched hands. You instantly felt better when power flared around your joined hands. “Do not rely on this trick,” Frigga told Loki firmly. “But with the right spell, you can draw power through the soulbond. You will have the relevant texts sent to your room,"she added before you or Loki could ask her for them. 

She looked at Loki expectantly. You wisely remained silent. Loki sighed before he answered.  “The humans she lives with have taken advantage of her kindness and abilities for the past year,” Loki explained, though the words seemed to pain him. You zoned out while he explained further. You didn’t need to listen to his explanation and could instead float in the healing haze until it was done.  

You were still weak and exhausted when it was finally finished and you assumed you would be for awhile. Though you were stronger than you’d been and able to function. “You will be fine with some rest, dear,” Frigga told you kindly. “You may take her back to your suite to rest. You can go visit Torun tomorrow,” she told Loki. “If you’re up to it, I’m sure everyone would like to see you at dinner.”

Loki nodded and stood so he could get you out of there.  

“Thank you, Lady Mother,”you told Frigga formally. You moved to stand and wasn’t at all surprised when Loki swept you into his arms before you could. You didn’t complain, not this time. You were still wearing your blood soaked Earth pajamas, which would definitely be out of place on Asgard as well as draw unwanted attention. At least in his arms, you were mostly shielded from stares on that account. Also you loved him and were safe and exhausted, so being carried was perfectly fine. 

This time.

"I mean it when you say to rest, Daughter. No magic until your eyes turn back to their normal color at the very least,” Frigga ordered firmly.

“Yes, Lady Mother,” you replied meekly.  You wouldn’t fight her this time.  You’d really overtaxed yourself. 

She just sighed. “I have heard that tone too many times…” she smiled fondly at Loki. “Before you hide in your rooms, please go visit your brother. He is in the small audience chamber,”

“Do you require an escort?” Loki asked Frigga. She shook her head. How could she make everyday gestures look so regal?  You were sure you’d never get the hang of it. 

“One of the guards is waiting for you outside,” she gestured to the exit to the healing wing. 

Loki nodded, accepting her answer. “Very well. Thank you, Mother,” his words were formal, but his tone gentle and kind. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, managing to avoid dropping you as he did, which just made you even more impressed with his strength.

Loki carried you through the halls of the palace and you laid your head on his shoulder, trying to ignore the stares of the people you passed. They all greeted you, some with smiles, most with bows and curtsies. A few who got a good look at you looked horrified at your appearance. Thankfully, you arrived soon at the side entrance to the small audience chamber. This was the royal entrance in a small antechamber. Loki set you on your feet next to him, wrapping an arm around you for support. Loki cleared his throat, drawing attention to you. No one in the audience chamber but Thor, who was sitting in the throne like chair at the front of the room, would be able to see you in the antechamber.

“Excuse me,” said Thor after he had spotted you. He stood and came over to the antechamber you were in. “Brother! You have returned!” He exclaimed in his usual cheerful boisterous manner. He grabbed Loki in a bear hug and squeezed him too tightly. You couldn’t help laughing at them.

“Thor! Let you go!” Loki protested. He just got squished tighter for his efforts. He complained about Thor, but he didn’t mean it. Thor finally dropped Loki, who immediately began rubbing his sore back.  At least he hadn’t stabbed Thor this time.

Thor turned to you, reaching automatically for your hand so he could kiss it. You saw the change in his expression when he took in your appearance. “Thor, I’m so sorry for your loss,” you told him before he could say anything about you. You took a step towards him, opening your arms to offer him a hug. He pulled you tightly to him, but didn’t squish you like he had done to Loki. “Our Lady Mother has said that I cannot visit Torun until tomorrow,” your speech got formal like theirs in Asgard as you were speaking their language.  You also still felt terrible that you hadn’t paid your respects yet.

"He will be glad to see you tomorrow,” Thor replied. You were relieved that he wasn’t upset. Thor held you tightly to him which you didn’t mind. He was so warm and surprisingly gentle. “What happened to you, little sister?” he asked while he was holding you.

“It’s been a hard year on all of us,” you finally replied. You didn’t want to worry him. He had enough on his plate. You yelped in surprise when he swept you up into his arms. You shouldn’t have been surprised; you were actually more surprised that it had taken him this long. You were just glad he hadn’t thrown you over his shoulder.

“Lady, I have seen black eyes like yours once before,” Thor said in a firmer, more formal tone than you had ever heard from him before. Loki wouldn’t look at him when he said that. You saw the embarrassment in his eyes. He wouldn’t meet your eyes either. “What happened to drain your powers to within seconds of death?”

“When did you see the black eyes before?” you asked instead. That earned you a smile from him.

“You first. Come, Brother. Your darling soulbond needs her bed. We will talk as we walk,” you laughed at Thor being Thor and were glad that he was back to being normal. Loki spluttered and insisted he should carry you, but Thor ignored him as usual. He knew Loki would follow as long as Thor was carrying you.

You sighed. “I’ve been on call to the healers for a year with basically no break. The last month was hell. I only got a few hours of sleep and one decent meal the entire month… We were so busy with villains attacking constantly. Then yesterday we saved the lives of ten or so people and earlier today I had to bring my uncle’s fiancee back from death’s door. I was the only healer available,” you explained to Thor as he walked you back to the family wing.

“They take advantage of her kindness and her strong healing abilities,” Loki added grumpily. “And do not bother looking out for her wellbeing until it is too late,”

“So?” you prompted Thor. “When have you seen this before?” You’d told your story, it was time for him to tell his. 

“When Loki was around 10,” he started.

“Thor!” Loki shouted. “Do not tell this story,” he grumbled, but you could tell he knew that Thor was going to tell it regardless.

“Why? ’Tis a good story. It is not even embarrassing, Brother, not for you anyway.” Thor replied jovially. “Anyway, we were all out on a camping trip, some kind of male bonding time with Father. So of course he tells us to go on a hike and leave him alone for awhile. So we hiked and generally annoyed each other and not him for a long while. We were on one of the cliffs and it crumbled out from underneath my feet. I do not know how far the fall was, or how Loki and Balder managed to get down there,”

“Balder flew us,“ Loki interrupted sullenly.

"It was a long fall and I was severely banged up,”

“He means mostly dead,” Loki interrupted again.  “This was before Mjolnir,”

“Who is the one telling this story, darling baby brother?” Thor laughed and Loki sulked. “Anyway, Loki used every drop of healing magic Mother had taught him so far to save my life. He nearly died in the process. I had to carry him all the way back to our camp. Father ended the ill-fated camping trip immediately. Loki’s eyes were black like that for a month because of it,” Thor finally finished his story.

“That wasn’t an embarrassing story,” you told Loki over Thor’s shoulder. He still scowled, but softened his expression some for you.

“No, but you still do not like it told,” Loki finally said.

“You just like your persona of the all-powerful flawless magician,” Thor laughed. Even Loki chuckled at that. You reached your suite quickly and Thor handed you back to Loki. “It is good to see you two, even if the circumstances are not the best. Get some rest, little sister. I am sure you will see plenty of you while you are here.” Thor opened the suite’s door for you and Loki kicked it shut behind him, slamming it in Thor’s face. Thor laughed from the other side of the door.

He finally set you on your feet again inside the bathroom. You remembered again that you was still covered in Pepper’s blood. “Are you sure you would not like for me to help?” Loki purred in your ear.  You were sure you turned at least ten different shades of red at that purred comment. You knew he was teasing, though. He would never push. He was too much of a gentleman. Joking, however, was fair game.

“Loki…” you tried to sound firm, but just sounded tired and exasperated. So you placed both hands on his chest and proceeded to shove him bodily from the bathroom. “Shoo, silly Trickster,” you told him, laughing at his pouts. “I want to get a nap before dinner, which means I have to get this blood off of me. And out of my hair. I still have no idea how blood always gets in my hair…” you grumbled. He laughed and held up his hands in surrender and let you push him the rest of the way out of the bathroom. You slammed the door in his face and went to get your overly hot shower and get the blood out of your hair. Again.

Loki didn’t leave you anything to wear after this shower. He usually left you something. You was used to his small courtesies and wondered what he was up to. Silly Trickster. So you wrapped a towel around yourself and stomped into the bedroom. He was asleep in a chair by the bed, as if he’d sat down for a second and passed out. That was why he hadn’t been as courteous as usual. You stole one of his tunics from his closet. It went down to nearly your knees, so it totally counted as pajamas. You pulled back the covers on the bed and then surveyed your problem. Boyfriend was in the chair. You needed him in the bed. You couldn’t use magic and you didn’t want to wake him. 

You were going to have to wake him.

There was no other way.

“Love,” you touched his shoulder and leaned down to kiss his forehead. He opened his eyes, looking confused. “Come on, time for a nap,” you told him gently. You grabbed his hands and used all of your weight to haul him to his feet. He was barely awake, but made it to the bed where you settled in among the blankets and pillows for a much needed nap.

“That is an excellent outfit, my darling,” he murmured as you were dozing off.

“Shush, you,” you laughed, cuddling better against his cool body.

[axelsagewrites]

Revenge PT1*Shadowhunters

Ship(s): None yet.

Requested (?): Nope.

Warnings?: murder

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

“Kill the hunters!” The crowd roared as men clad in black were dragged onto the makeshift stage. The wood creaked under their movement, but the crowd released something inside us. My heart thudded as fast as a hummingbird, a grin on my face.

The stands were set up in fours; one for the vampires, one for the werewolves, one for the fae, and one for the warlocks. We were all getting our revenge. “Ready?” Someone cried to the crowd, the faces all a blur.

Their cheers were deafening, drowning out the shadowhunters pleads as their heads were shoved through the loop of the rope. We took our places besides our trophies. I could hold my head high for the warlocks. For all the lives they took, all the pain they caused, just a little taste back. That thought helped drown out his voice, his pleads.

It didn’t drown out the woman’s cry. My eyes were drawn to the woman screaming out for her husband as she was held back by Downworlders. The sky was dark, and the fires did nothing but put a layer of smoke over us, but I saw her face clear.

“On three!” It sounded like I was underwater. The woman looked back. “One,” I took a step back, “Two,” My hand rested on the lever. There was no silence between the countdown, just noise. She was saying something. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t hear. My grin faltered as I saw her face crumple. “Three!” I paused.

Thud

Thud

Thud

Briefly between the sound of the crowd's last breath to the thud of shadowhunters I waited. The woman’s face twitched, something came over her.

Thud

Her husband dropped. There was twitching in the corner of my eye, but she was the apple of it. Fear, pain, acceptance, hope, devastation. How do they like it? The air tasted good that night.

 It was a massacre. The high turned to a bone-crushing fall. Damien started making his own laws. ‘we need to keep order’ his words rang in my head. We did this to get away from their laws. We did this for the Downworlders.  Then we started hanging Downworlders, just for associating with shadowhunters. It was time for a meeting.

“The warlocks have raised some…concerns?” Damien opened the meeting, sitting amongst the werewolves as he pretended, we were one.

All eyes fell on me. Fair enough. Instead of secret meetings in bedrooms and inn houses, we were sat in an official meeting hut. It was mundane. I looked around before standing up, “We’re becoming the shadowhunters,” I said.

A murmur rose in the hut. Damien let the chat linger though his eyes remained fixed on mine before he raised his hand to silence them. “And how do you figure that when we don’t kill the innocent?”

“Because were killing Downworlders,” I took a step into the middle of the hut, ignoring the chatter, “Killing them for talking to shadowhunters, helping them. Were supposed to punish the shadowhunters, not wipe them out! Unless you want to protect the mundanes?”

All eyes were darting between Damien and I. Damien looked away for a moment, “Do we really need mundanes?”

“Need mundanes?” I laughed, “Were will the vampire's feed? Where will you get recruits?! they’re a vital part of our magic system! Probably the fae as well. We can’t just kill off another group.”

“There are other ways to get by,”

“You’re thinking short term. you have years, decades.  I, we, have centuries ahead of us!”

“Dirty werewolves!” A vampire yelled. The chatter instantly became rowdy. A vampire stood from their crowd, “The warlocks right. You're being selfish! Always have been, always will,”

“It's you vamps that make it, so we have to meet at night!” A werewolf jumped up in response. The room was lost, “If it wasn’t for your sensitive lot, we’d have done this years ago!”

“You’ve got a check to talk!” As a warlock jumped in, I just slunk back. “You’ve been doing this for a few years, I’ve worked with these vampires for centuries! Talking about the founders, you weren’t even conceived when we began!”

The arguing was undecipherable after that. A jumble of noise rang out across the hut. “Enough,” Damien said but no one listened. When our eyes met, he stood up “Enough!” He bellowed. Finally silence, “Our we really going to let this warlock divide us?” Before a warlock could respond the Seelie Queen stood. And began to walk out “Where are you going? You can’t leave!”

The queen paused, an icy silence falling over the hut. Damien’s jaw quivered before locking into place. “Can’t I? “she replied, an eyebrow going up, “Because as far as I know, I’m queen,”

“Not here. Here we’re all equal,” Damien lied.

A hollow laugh fell from her throat, “You’ll never be my equal. My life will go one for centuries, millennium, long enough to watch your grey and turn to bones, then dust, then nothing. it’ll be like a weekend for me. You’re a mundane at heart Damien,” She said, “And it’ll never escape you. Seelie’s don’t help mundanes.” The queen left, taking her whole court with her.

The hut was a quarter empty and it hung like smoke. “We don’t need the Seelie’s,” Damien said, “Tricksters, the lot of them. We don’t need followers who won’t stay loyal. (Y/N)” he looked at me. Despite all the eyes on me I only looked back at him,” We don’t need you either,”

“The mundanes are catching on. How will you stay safe without magic?” I asked.

The laugh came from his lips instantly, “We can handle the mundanes,”

“Then you don’t need me either,” Kate stood and joined my side.

“Or me,”

“Or me,”

Soon their stood a third of the remaining with me. “Go,” Damien chuckled. His eyes narrowed “Go!” He screamed. “Get out! Now!”

As we walked away from the hut the cold air nipped my checks. “What will we do now?” Kate asked.

“What we did before this all started,”

Her face fell, “no action? They killed innocent shadowhunters. We can’t let them get away with it,”

“This is what started it all,” I reminded her. “We go home and go back to normal.” as I continued walking some of there steps faltered. When I glanced back Kate was gone. I shook my head with a chuckle as I saw the crowd begin to trickle back.

That night only those who had stayed with me and those Seelie’s lived. The shadowhunters were trained to kill demons. Damien might be part mundane, but he was demon as well. I never even bothered going back. Our camp had been ransacked I was told but I didn’t want anything anyway. I wanted away.

That never happened.

My ego had put a target on my head; when the movement first started taking off a portrait of the leaders was commissioned. All 10 of us standing around a table with the first 4 heads we got on the table.

Those 4 were justified though. Shadowhunters had ransacked our families, killed our friends in cold blood just for being in the wrong place. Where did we go wrong?

In the 17th century, it was easy to take off without anyone finding you. It wasn’t till the 20th century I began noticing men clad in black following me. It took longer for me to find out that shadowhunters had modernised. Their systems were online and worldwide.

I had been dragged into an institute in Berlin when I found out. Sat on one of the worst chairs ever, in the institute’s heads office, he turned the screen to me when my stomach dropped. He flicked through photos of me just living life.

“Yeah and? Is walking a crime?” I asked.

Then he brought another photo up. the portrait. My centuries had given me the perfect blank stare, but I can’t say it didn’t falter. He brought a photo of me now up beside the portrait, “Whoever painted this must’ve extremely talented, don’t you think?” he said, tilting his head like it was a real question. “The likeness is uncanny.”

“Coincidence,”

“That’s one big coincidence. We’ve been following you for a while now. In fact, it was an Alex Simon who tipped us off,”

I scoffed, “A scorned lover's pathetic attempt at revenge. I mean c’mon, really? What would happen if I interviewed your exes?”

“When was the last time you saw Alex?”

I rolled my eyes as he leant forward. “I don’t know. They made a scene at Ragnor’s last party. That must’ve been, I don’t know, a couple years ago. You can’t expect me to keep track after all these years.”

“When did the relationship end? Why? Surely you remember something,”

Why did he care? “Look Alex was just some quick thig. A passing moment. I mean we met in some random French pub.”

“A quick thing? According to Alex, you dated for over 3 years,”

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, “Oh come on. A long weekend to me really,”

“Long enough to tell secrets? Alex was the one who brought the portrait to our attention. Why would they do that?” he was leant forward, arms on the desk, “Could you think of anything?” I shrugged, “Maybe the silent brothers would,”

[vivipixels-notepad]

Desperation for A Dream, part 1

SFW

CW’s

Strange Reality

Falling 70+ feet (No injury)

Embarrassed in front of a crowd

Light themes of horror

Abrupt ending

Aes seldom dreamt. When she did, it was usually elaborate blueprints, which were highly boring to explore. But tonight, tonight was different. Tonight, she was speechless. She stood on a path made of polished, white granite cobble. Emerald waters lapped at the edges of the path, gently rushing in. The path led to a large wall, constructed some red stone. A large moon hung in the star speckled sky. Aes realized she was holding a lantern, which was lit with a blue flame. She held it aloft, and saw the spectral images of thousands of other people, walking this path. She took a breath in, and started to walk.

“You’re finally hear, dear friend.”

Aes jumped. She began to look around wildly.

“Hehe, you’ll not see me like that. The lantern, I’m in the lantern.”

She looked into the lantern. The flame itself was speaking.

“Hello! Hi!”

The fire pulsed warmly as it spoke. It’s voice was cheerful, feminine, and softly doubled over itself.

“Greetings! I am a fragment of Verlatiir’s Guiding Light. I’m your fragment. You are standing outside the city of Verlatiir, The Realm of Those Who Slumber. I’m more or less your guide.”

“Where.. where am I? How’d I get here?”

“I just told you, you’re outside Verlatiir! The Land of Lights? The City of Colors? The Great and Wonderous Dream Shared by All People? Any of these ring a bell?”

Aes shook her head.

“I’ll explain it the long way then. Magic magic shared dream demiplane magic magic.”

Aes scowled.

“That’s the long way?”

“I omitted most of the details. You’re in a shared, living dream, that exists within a demiplane, ruled by the Council of Sevens in their Stone Spires.”

“Okay, well this is a lot to take in. I assume that’s why you’re here.”

“Yep!” The flame chirped happily.

“Uh... do you have a name?”

“I... don’t.”

“Would you like one?”

“Yes, but remember.. names are powerful.”

“Names are powerful?”

“Yeah! Like.. if someone knows your true name, they have power over you. So me letting you name me is me giving you power over me. Remember that, and treat me fairly.”

“Oh, okay. Uh... I’ll name you... Lumetta?”

“Lumetta the what? Or the who? My name isn’t complete. All the names here have some kind of... descriptor.”

“Um... Lumetta who Lights The Way?”

The flame was silent for a brief moment.

“I really like it, Aes, Builder of Paths.”

A shiver went down her spine.

“Now, lets get you into Verlatiir!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took her much longer to approach the great walls of the city than she was expecting. All the while, Lumetta was explaining the intricacies of Verlatiir. For example, it’s illegal to drink the water.

“Do not drink the waters of Verlatiir,” Lumetta warned, “It reveals that which the eye cannot see, the ear cannot hear, the skin cannot touch, the nose cannot smell, the tongue cannot taste, and the mind cannot comprehend.”

“So it’s some kind of hallucinogen?”

“No no, my dear Aes! The things you would see are not hallucinations. You would wish they were. You will not get thirsty here, but your thirst for knowledge would be your downfall. Some people bottle it, and bring it back with them, hoping to return here. It doesn’t work, Absynthe is poisonous.”

“Ohhkay then.”

“You also can’t feel physical pain here. If you do, at any point, actually get hurt, run. The things that can hurt you here are highly dangerous, and can kill you.”

“That’s... wonderful.”

“Don’t worry, those things aren’t *supposed* to be here, so you’ll be fine!”

The gates to the city were open. The white granite cobbles continued into the city, melding into the white paths. She hesitated to continue when she saw the stream of people, seemingly appearing from the threshold.

“Why are you stopping, we’re almost there!”

“I.. crowds make me nervous.”

“It’s okay, I’m here, I’m with you, you can’t loose me. Most people won’t even be able to see me, let alone take me from you.”

Aes took in a deep breath, and walked though the gate. Reality subtly shifted. The sounds and smells of the city assailed her all at once, colors brightened, the very air became charged. It was overwhelming, and Aes fell against a nearby wall.

“Are you alright?” Lumetta seemed to press against the glass of her square lantern.

“It’s... a bit much.” Slowly, Aes got used to it. Or the sensations died down. She was thankful for it, which ever way it happened. A few passers by had turned to look at her on their way into the city. Not a single one was human. She stood upright, and shakily kept walking. Aes marveled at the site of the city itself. The outer walls seemed to be about seven stories tall.

“Uh.. Lumetta, where do I go?”

People pushed past Aes, who simply stood, dumbfounded. The city looked vaguely medieval, large stone walls on either side of the street. From the gate, one could walk left or right, as another large wall stood not far from the entrance.

“Anywhere you want!”

“That.. doesn’t help. Can I get off this street please, it too crowded.”

“There’s an alley on your left. Duck in there, I’ll tell you a secret.”

Aes quickly made her way off the busy street, into a narrow alleyway.

“Alright, what is it?”

“The streets are too cluttered for you, right? Well, why not traverse somewhere less full of people?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Flying, silly! Physics are malleable here!”

“This place is a shared dream, right? So... we’re not playing by normal rules.”

“Exactly! Just... sorta will yourself to do it!”

Aes closed her eyes, and focused on the distant sensation of gliding through the air. She imagined herself slowly rising up, away from the crowds, past rooftops.

“It’s working!”

Aes opened her eyes, and was shocked to actually be floating off the ground. She was nearing the top of the outer wall, and the sight of that caught her so off guard, she lost her focus. Aes began to plummet back to the ground. She couldn’t tell if she was screaming, the air rushing past her head drowned out all noise. Lumetta had said that nothing could hurt her, so on some level, she knew this wasn’t instant death. But it was the fear of not knowing what it would feel like that terrified her to her core. Almost as quickly as she had taken off, she came crashing back down with a meaty thud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remarkably, Aes never lost consciousness, and managed to keep a grip on her lantern. She did, however, draw a crowd. Flying wasn’t illegal, and she had broken no laws. But the guards still showed up, because of the screaming. Aes hadn’t moved out of embarrassment, but some thought she was dead. Because of this, no one dared get close. If something killed her, it might still be over her body. It was a solid ten minutes before some stepped forth. A pale woman in a white dress, with a red sash. She was in a huff, upset with the goings ons of the day. This incident did not help, and frankly made her quite angry. Fools who cannot keep their cool should not try to do something they cannot handle. She briskly walked over to scene, grabbed the body by the scruff, and hoisted Aes to her feet.

“Would you *please* stop making a scene! You’re beginning to attract the attention of the Seven!”

Aes, trembling, with ears folded over her face, squeaked out a weak, “Sorry.”

The crowd dispersed quickly, the person who fell was alive, and the Seven were watching. No need to linger. The woman in the white kept a hold of Aes.

“Just what do you think you’re doing!? You’re in the city for not even five minutes, and you go and cause a ruckus! Why, I ought to bring you straight up to the Court my damn self! I should... wait.. are you.. crying?”

She turned Aes to face her, revealing streams of tears running down her cheeks.

“Hey, I-I didn’t mean to-you should really-uh-hey, can you please stop crying.”

Aes did her best to regain composure, apologizing between sobs. Eventually, the woman set her back down, and knelt beside her.

“Look, I didn’t mean to come off so strong on ya. Its been a rough day, and well, I’m sure you know how it feels to deal with one incident after another.”

Aes slowly nodded. One of the nearby guards let out a small laugh.

“Is the Captain of the Ruby Guard going soft?”

The woman in white rose to her feet, and grabbed the guard’s shoulder.

“You mistake compassion for weakness, perhaps I should have the Seven review the tenants of our order with you.”

The guard stiffened up.

“Apologies ma’am, that won’t be necessary.”

“Good.” She turned back to Aes, and held out a hand, “My name is Sylvia, what’s yours?”

“Aes.” She took Sylvia’s hand, and pulled herself to her feet.

“Well, Aes, as long as you don’t go causing any more scenes, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Is there anything else you need? Directions, advice, newcomer’s welcome?”

“I.. I wouldn’t mind some general directions.”

“The city is separated into four districts, along the four main gates, with the Court of Sevens in the center. What is actually in each district varies wildly, but they’re separated for organizational purposes. Welcome to Verlatiir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The city was a blur beneath her, as she soared through the air. Aes clutched her lantern, and focused solely on the feeling of the wind.

“I told you you’d get the hang of it!” Lumetta chirped happily.

She was right, it wasn’t very difficult. Aes wanted to throw in the towel after the first attempt, but Lumetta encouraged her to try again. And again. And again. After two hours, she was finally flying. Aes slowed down, bringing herself to a hover.

“So.. what now, Lumetta?”

“Well, I figured we get you some currency, and find a nice souvenir for when you wake.”

“Oh.. right. I have to wake up at some point, don’t I?”

“You don’t want to, do you?”

“This place is so.. beautiful. And strange. And I want to explore more of it. But I don’t want to leave.”

“It’s okay, most people are like that the first time. Everything will be right here when you return, I promise.”

Aes hugged the lantern.

“Okay. Where do we go to get whatever passes as money here?”

“Well... you can do a couple of things. I assume you don’t have any memories you want to get rid of. In that case, you can more or less rent some out.”

“Rent out my memories?”

“Yeah, like, let other people experience them. I know of a place, let me lead you there. We’re actually pretty close.”

The lantern began to pull Aes forward, then down into an alleyway. Lumetta was right, they were practically just above it. The sign over the door depicted a small crystal, sitting in a glass of wine.

“Go on, get in there.”

Aes hesitated briefly, before grabbing the handle, and pushing her way inside.

The room wasn’t amazingly large. It looked a lot like a tavern, with wall sconces, a hearth, a bar, and a number of patrons in various states of consciousness. Soft string music flowed through the room.

“Welcome to the Merry Glass, are you giving or taking?” The young man behind the bar called to Aes as she walked in.

“Um. Giving?” She approached the bar, and hopped onto a stool.

“Great! I haven’t seen your face before, so I’ll explain our rates. You get one pouch when you first drop off your desired memory, of course, you also get however much it’s worth, but you also get another pouch per person that uses it. There are no limits on what you can and can’t leave with us, and you can have it back whenever you wish. Here is a small ‘contract’ with more detail on your protections as a renter to the Merry Glass, as well as a more detailed explanation on rates.”

Aes’s head felt like it was spinning.

“This is.. uh. A lot.”

She set her lantern down next to it. Lumetta cleated her throat.

“Here, I’ll explain it for you...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All told, the paperwork only took thirty minutes. The explanation was slightly longer, but Aes understood it all after Lumetta had broken it down for her. The last thing left to do was to choose a memory to leave behind. The empty, quartz-like crystal sat before her.

“I think I know which one I want to do.”

“Great!” Lumetta exclaimed, “You don’t have to say specifically what it is, all you have to do is picture it in your mind, and put your hand on that little crystal there.”

Aes put her hand on the crystal. It was no bigger than a quarter. She closed her eyes, and remembered. Remembered the first time she had worn the collar she made for Dizzy to test. The pleasure swirled up inside her again, as she relived those blissful moments. They faded as quickly as they appeared, until the memory was over. Aes opened her eyes, face cherry red.

“That’s... that’s going to be a popular one,” the barkeep said, picking up the crystal. He put it on a golden scale, and began adding small, brown leather pouches to the opposite side. It took ten pouches to balance it out. The barkeep coughed. “Wow, okay, damn.” He picked up the now pink crystal, and set it in a box, with Aes’s name on it. Then, he scooped up the pouches, and handed them to Aes. “You uh, you got some expensive memories. Don’t come back too soon, this little thing might just become a hot commodity.”

“Um.. okay.”

Aes picked up the pouches, and left. They were strangely heavy.

“What’s in these pouches, Lumetta?”

“Refined dream dust!”

“Oh.”

“Yep! Sometimes it just kinda... shows up here. It’s basically gold dust. Try not to think about that too much. Anyway, now it’s time to get you a little somethin’ somethin’! There’s a trinket shop further down the alley to your left.”

Aes cautiously followed Lumetta’s instructions. She was hesitant around alleyways, as she had a small history of getting pulled into them. Her ears were sitting straight up. She was in the verge of tripping her fight-or-flight response.

“..es..” a whisper found it’s way to her ears.

She stiffened.

“..aes..”

Her face went pale. Someone was near.

“..what’s a lamp-lighter like yourself doing here..”

Lumetta seemed to dim, almost hiding.

“Wh-who are you? How do you know my name?” She called out.

The voice responded with laughter, and in a sing-song voice, called out, “..little lone lamp-lighter, lost and languishing.. why don’t you give me that little light of yours?”

A spindly, inky black hand reached out from in front of her. She felt another hand on her shoulder.

Aes screamed.